Wrenched from the safety of sleep I blink fearfully up at the blazing light that suddenly fills the room. Pain and exhaustion flow through my body, taking my breath away. Then the screaming starts. She barks at me in a language I do not understand, which is both disorientating and terrifying. I plead for clemency but her wrath has overtaken her and she no longer acknowledges my attempts at meaningful communication. Glancing over, I notice that my fellow captive is unconscious. My mind reels at the horrors she has meted out and fear strikes me as I realise that I am next. I promise her that I will find food to sate her ever-increasing appetite but she just screams again and kicks out. I flinch and draw back, praying for the night to envelope me once again. Her shouts become louder and more insistent and my ears ring. I promise to change but she just flings faeces at me in protest. It hits my bare leg and runs down onto the already stained floor. I am now truly broken, at my lowest ebb. "What do you want?" I cry, "I don't know what you want, please tell me!" but she just stares impassively back. Her eyelids flicker, she is now looking past me. Her screams subside and she falls effortlessly to sleep.
I change her nappy, clean up the mess, redress her and slip her back into her cot. I take a long last look into my daughter's now angelic face before crawling back to bed and escape into sleep.
