Not much is going on for Christmas today. Nancy said she would bring me a plate of Christmas dinner that Phillip’s mom makes. She and Phillip said they would have eaten back here with me but his mother would be alone, so they would come in later tonight. I wonder what my mom is doing today. They are probably having a nice family dinner together. I hope she is happy. I’m sure Carl is a lot happier now that I am gone. I don’t think he liked me much. I got in the way a lot. I wonder if I will ever feel happy again. I pretend I’m happy a lot, just so Phillip and Nancy don’t feel bad. I’ve learned that having a good attitude around them makes them want to do more for me. So I keep my true feelings to myself.
My plans for the day are: 1. watch the
During these interceding months I am moved back and forth from the “studio” to “next door” many times. I’m not sure why I was shuffled from one room to the next. I think a part of it was because he liked to have some of his friends come over and smoke weed and play music all night. I remember the music coming from the studio. It would last until the wee hours of the morning sometimes. It was so loud it was hard to sleep. I got used to hearing it and it became easier. It made me feel like he was working to improve the future, and I learned not to mind. I never saw any of the people that went in there with him. I know Nancy was in there and would have to sneak away to come over and feed me when they had company. I think it was just Phillip in there, fiddling around with his sound equipment, playing by himself. I really began to think he’d be a musician one day. He had original songs that he wrote. He said he taught himself to play guitar. He said his instrument was bass but he amazed himself how well he played the guitar and keyboard. He said he didn’t really need anyone to play with him, that with the equipment he had he could be a one-man band. Nancy wanted to play the drums. She had books on the subject and she said the drums were hers. I could hear her practicing on them sometimes, too.
During one of the times I was “next door,” Nancy said she was looking in the paper for another kitty for me. This time they wanted to get me a kitten. I wasn’t sure I wanted another kitty. It was so hard to give up the last kitten that I really didn’t want to go through that again. But in the end I didn’t protest very much. Nancy found an ad for a four-week-old kitten in the
At one time I had a small tent in the room next door to the studio. They got it for me for my birthday. (I know, ironic gift, right?) I had my own sleeping bag, a shelf which I used for a desk and bookshelf. I had my own TV in there, too. When Phillip would come in for sex, I would have to leave my little sanctuary. Phillip was a lot longer than the tent, so it didn’t work for him to come in and make me have sex. He would lay a blanket on the floor “next door” and make me lay there and said he would be quick if I didn’t struggle. I remember laying there with unshed tears in my eyes and looking at my little tent and longing to crawl back in. They got me another cat, which I named Eclipse. I think I had her for about a month until Phillip took her away, too. I don’t remember why. I do remember I wrote a journal about her. I would chronicle all the things she did during the day. It’s one of the few things I eventually received back after the police removed evidence from the property. The front looks like this:
As you can see, although I’ve always loved writing I’m not the best speller, as this cover shows. When I got this journal back from the police and read it, I noticed I had torn the corners of the title page. It brought back the memory and how guilty I felt for writing my name in the first place. In the torn-off corner I had written: “this is written by Jaycee Dugard” on the first page of that journal. I wrote Eclipse’s Journal in 1993, but already Phillip’s control over my life was almost absolute. I remember, I was so proud that I had written this for my kitty and wanted to share it with someone, I showed it to Phillip and he saw that I had put my name in it. He preached to me for I think an hour about how I really didn’t want to write my name, and how dangerous that could be if anyone else ever read it. I thought to myself, I never see anyone, though, but I didn’t interrupt because it always ended with why he was right and I was wrong. So I tore out the corners with my name and never wrote my real name on anything again until 2009.
