My creative project!

I wanted to give a little context for my project before you read it. As soon as I heard the option of writing a scene from another character’s point of view I knew I wanted to rewrite a section of Room from Ma’s perspective. I knew it was going to be really hard to accurately reflect the gravity of her emotions or experiences because I really have no idea of everything that she’s gone through. We talked about in class how writing the novel from Jack’s perspective softens the edges a little bit.

I tried really hard to do Ma’s feelings justice when I was writing from her perspective, and to encompass the fear and desperation she felt during this scene. I chose to rewrite the part where Jack is leaving for the Great Escape because it is the first part of Room where Jack and Ma are separated and thus, without Jack’s narration, we have no idea what Ma is thinking or doing during that time.

All of the dialogue was copied directly from the book (pages 135-137 and 154-155) and then I did my best to fill in actions and Ma’s thoughts. I tried to capture the ambiguity I imagined she felt about wanting Jack to go get them freedom, but also not wanting him to leave her, and how painful the time she spent in Room without him would have been.

Beep beep.

He opens the door. I pray Jack can stay still. Otherwise who knows what he’ll do to us. I press down on Jack so he knows I’m with him. He must be so scared.

“Here you go. Antibiotics, only just past the sell-by. For a kid you break them in half, the guy said,” he says.

I say nothing. I know he doesn’t care about Jack, even though he tries to pretend he does.

“Where is he, in the wardrobe?”

As soon as he says it, I wished Jack was safe in the wardrobe instead of wrapped up in the rug. I point down at him.

“Are you crazy, wrapping a sick kid up like that?”

Maybe I was crazy. I had to act crazy. “You didn’t come back. He got worse in the night and this morning he wouldn’t wake up.”

He wasn’t expecting that. I see the shock in his face. “Are you sure?”

All the desperation and fear and hatred from the last seven years poured over me and I felt myself become angrier than I had ever felt before. “Am I sure?”

“Ah, no.” He sighs. Not upset for me, but at the trouble I’ve now caused him. “That’s just terrible. You poor girl, you—” He stops. He has no right to call me a poor girl and we both know it. All of this is his fault.

He picks back up. “Guess it must have been something really serious. The pills wouldn’t have worked anyway.”

It’s just like him to make excuses. Redirect the blame onto anyone but himself.

“You killed him,” I half scream, half sob. I glance at Jack. Miraculously he’s managing to stay still.

“Come on now, calm down.”

“How can I calm down when Jack’s—“

I can’t even say the word dead. The thought of Jack dying nearly breaks me. My tears become more real.

He stands up and walks towards Jack and I instinctually move between them.

“Let me,” he says, gesturing towards the rolled up rug.

“Don’t touch him.” I know I have to pretend to be resistant to get him to take Jack away from me. If I was too willing he would know something was going on. But part of me doesn’t want him to take Jack from me at all, even if it does mean forfeiting our chance at freedom.

He shrinks back a little. “OK, OK,” he placates. But we both know what has to be done. “You can’t keep him here.”

“My baby!” I cry.

“I know, it’s a terrible thing. But I have to take him away now.”

“No.” I look at the rug that conceals Jack again. He’s so small for his age, never spent a moment apart from me. Was I crazy to think he could do this? But I couldn’t back out now—if he realized we had lied to him we would be in even greater danger.

“How long’s it been?” he asks. In my head I think seven years. But I know that’s not what he’s asking. “This morning, you said? Maybe in the night. He must be starting to—it’s not healthy, keeping him here. I better take him and, and find a place.”

My mind refocuses on the plan and what Jack and I need to do. I need to get Jack away from here, somewhere where someone will help him.

“Not in the backyard” I say, putting all of my anger into the words.

“OK,” he says. How can I believe him.

“If you put him in the backyard—You never should have done that, it’s too close.” I think of my first child and almost lose my nerve but I continue. This is about Jack. “If you bury him there I’ll hear him crying.”

“I said OK.” He’s getting frustrated with me now.

“You have to drive him a long way away, all right?” Somewhere where we can get help.

He starts to walk towards Jack again. “All right. Let me,” he says reaching out towards Jack.

I feel sick. So sick. “Not yet,” I cry. I wish I had just one more moment with Jack, to tell him that I loved him and to be brave. And to go over the plan. “You mustn’t disturb him.” I don’t want to imagine what will happen if he realizes Jack is alive.

“I’ll keep him all wrapped up.”

“Don’t you dare lay a finger—“

“All right,” he interrupts me, really impatient now.

I can feel myself fighting for our survival, doing everything I can to make sure our plan works. “Swear you won’t even look at him with your filthy eyes.”

“OK.”

“Swear.” As if his word means anything to me.

“I swear, OK?”

I step out of the way and watch as he walks over to Jack. Panic sets in. “I’ll know. I’ll know if you put him in the backyard, and I’ll scream, every time that door opens, I’ll tear this place apart, I swear I’ll never be quiet again. You’ll have to kill me too to shut me up, I just don’t care anymore.”

The worst part is that he could do anything to Jack and I would have no idea. But I do know I can’t live without Jack again.

“Take it easy,” he spits at me. He breathes and calms his voice down, trying to act soothing. “I’m going to pick him up and carry him to the truck, OK?”

These could be my last moments with Jack ever. The possibility is overwhelming and I’m sobbing. “Gently. Find somewhere nice,” I plead. “Somewhere with trees or something.” Somewhere we can get help.

“Sure. Time to go now.” He’s really going to do it now.

I reach down and squeeze Jack. I’m here, Jack, I think. I know he can hear me. You can do this. Remember the plan and I’ll see you soon. Be brave Jack.

“Jack, Jack, Jack” slips out of my mouth. I love you Jack. I think.

Finally he picks Jack up and my whole body convulses. I hate seeing him touch him. Jack stays still. You can do it Jack.

He walks towards the door, holding the rug. It takes all of my strength to not run after, grab Jack and hold him in my arms forever. Or to try and grab Jack and run outside with him. But I know this is the only way.

Beep beep. They’re gone.

I’m screaming and screaming. What have I done. I just handed over my baby, my whole world, to a monster. Horrific possibilities: Jack discovered, Jack buried, Jack alone and afraid and unsure what to do, race through my brain. He must be so scared. He’s away from me for the first time in his life.

And I am alone in this prison for the first time in five years. I remember how slowly the seconds dragged by before I had Jack, but now each one feels like eternity. I have no idea when I will hear the door beep again, or who will be on the other side of it.

Maybe the door will never open again and I’ll die here alone.

I can’t even look at the watch. I don’t want to know what time it is. Minutes or hours or days could have passed since the last time I saw Jack. The image of him leaving in his arms appears in my brain and I feel sick. Jack. I think. Remember the plan Jack.

Was I crazy to think that Jack could do this? He’s only five and has never been exposed to the real world. Am I selfish and desperate for making him try to save us? He said he didn’t want to and I forced him, pushed him like I never have before.

I’m so sorry Jack. I tell him. So sorry for everything.

I can’t stay still. I’m walking around the shed looking at all the evidence of Jack within. I run my hands over his books, lean down and whisper hello to Eggsnake, open the wardrobe and breathe in the scent of his clothes. I spot the picture of him I drew for his birthday. It seemed so long ago that I gave it to him. He was so upset that I had been awake when he wasn’t. He always wanted to do everything, share everything with me. And now he was in the world without me, alone and scared. A tear rolls down my cheek and smudged one of the pencil lines that made up his face.

I’m sitting on the bed. I feel like I’m in a trance, not taking my eyes off the door. Waiting for the beep, for it to open, wondering what’s to come. It seems like Jack has been gone for a long time. Too long. I feel myself losing hope, giving up on my dream of freedom.

If he comes back I hope he kills me. I don’t want to live without Jack. I don’t want to suffer anymore.

I hope Jack wasn’t too scared.

Bang. I jolt, immediately alert, staring at the door. I don’t know whether to hide myself or run right up to it.

Bang bang. The lock shatters. The door begins to open. I’m frozen. My heart beats frantically.

“Police. We’re here to help. You’re safe. You’re free.”

I hear the words I’ve been dreaming of for seven years and start to cry. We did it, he did it, Jack did it, Jack—Jack.

“Where is he?” I scream at the officer. She puts her hands up in a placating gesture.

“He’s right outside, he’s in the car with another officer, he’s safe—”

“Take me now,” I sob, “Please I need to see him take me now.”

I’m outside, outside with the wind and the sky and grass under my feet for the first time in years but it doesn’t matter because I just need to see Jack and hold him and know that he’s all right and tell him how proud of him I am.

I’m running, the officer beside me, and I turn the corner and I see him in the back of the police car, tiny fists banging on the window and I throw open the door and hug him and never want to let go.

The police officers ushered us back into the car but I’m still holding onto Jack. My brave little Jack.

“We did it,” I tell him, hardly believing it. “Well, you did it really.”

“I kept messing up the plan,” he says. The stupid plan. I’m so lucky it worked, so lucky to be sitting here with him right now.

“You saved me” I say and I really mean it. Time after time in the shed he saved me, and now he has freed me too.

“Was he there?” Jack asks me. I shudder to think what would have happened if it had been him on the other side of that door instead of the police.

“No” thank God, I think, “I was all by myself waiting, it was the longest hour of my life. The next think I knew was, the door exploded open, I thought I was having a heart attack.”

Jack’s eyes get wide. “The blowtorch!”

“No, they used a shotgun.”

“I want to see the explosion.”

“It was only for a second. You can see another some time, I promise.” For the first time I know I am making Jack a promise that I can keep. I smile. “We can do anything now.”

“Why?” Jack asks. He still doesn’t really understand.

“Because we’re free.”

Jack closes his eyes. He must be exhausted, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again.

I hate to bother him but I have to. The ordeal isn’t over yet. There will be questioning and testing and adjustment to go through still. I whisper to him that he can’t fall asleep yet, we need to talk to the police for a little longer.

He only half wakes up and says “I want to go to bed,” and I feel pity for him. He’s so young and so tired and he just wants to sleep.

“They’ll find us somewhere to sleep in a little while.” I make another promise.

His eyes are wide open now. “No. Bed.”

I freeze. “You mean in Room?” I ask, not even wanting to think about it. Wanting only to put it behind me and never go back, never see it again. I stare at him horrified.

“Yeah. I’ve seen the world and I’m tired now.” He closes his eyes again.

“Oh Jack,” I say, unsure of how to continue. My efforts over the last five years turned my prison into his home, and by freeing us I’ve also ripped him from it. “We’re never going back,” I finally say. I couldn’t handle it.

We begin to drive away, putting the shed and it’s horrors behind us.

 Jack starts to cry and I have no idea how to comfort him.