Prison Break

It’s dark in here. The walls are damp and there’s a strange smell that emanates from everywhere. It makes me nauseous. On moonlit nights, sliver streams break through the darkness. When this happens, I look around my dungeon and see a half eaten plate of food in a corner and tiny tumbler that’s almost always empty. There should be water in there. But there isn’t. My mouth is dry and my insides squirm. I am tired, thirsty, exhausted and defeated. 

I throw open the windows to let in some fresh air. The air that comes in just stagnates somehow. When I look out of the window, I see life outside. I crave it so desperately. I don’t like being locked in here. I don’t like the loneliness. I don’t like the neglect. 

The place where I am holed up is not a great height from the ground. I can jump out and free myself from here but I’m so accustomed to the darkness. Too much light frightens me. I have grown comfortable eating the crumbs you throw at me. I savour them. 

You pass by everyday. Sometimes twice a day. You don’t even look in my direction. Why have you kept me here? What do you want from me? Is this some weird power play I’m unaware of? Does the fact that you have hold and power over me give you a kick of some sort?

You’ll argue that the window is open and I can jump out and secure my freedom at any time. Perhaps you’re right. But before I decide to gather my self esteem and take that leap I want to know why you kept me in here? What was the need? Why can’t you let me out the door with dignity? Why can’t you accord me the respect I deserve? Why do I have to jump out of the window like a fugitive? Why have you pushed me into this dark corner? WHY? 

When I ask questions, try to confront you and scream through the walls in the dead of night begging for answers you show up at the end of the dungeon. You look grim, your shadow does, anyway. You tell me quite vocally that this captivity was entirely my idea and that you have nothing to do with it. You tell me that I came into this dungeon with my own free will. You point at the window and say “jump” 

WHAT THE ... 

When WE came in here, all those months ago. You held my hand playfully and led me in here. You promised me many things. We both built castles in the air. Both of us. Not just me.

You promised me you’d return but as time elapsed I realised that that was an empty promise. Like all your other promises. 

Now you only pass by like a shadow I once knew and once danced with. A shadow I once held close to my heart. A shadow I once loved. 

On the rare occasions when you come in here and tell me about the world outside, I hide my hurt feelings. You tell me the wonderful things you’ve done and the new people you’ve met. I am happy for you. I genuinely am. But why am I not a part of your world? Why keep me here like a dirty secret? Why are rules different for you and different for me? Why do you get to see the world while I’m held hostage here? Where’s your sense of justice? Where’s your conscience? Do you even have one? 

I am broken and abashed, but I know what’s happening with me is wrong and it needs to stop. 

I decide to take hold of the situation. I have to know why you are keeping me prisoner. I have to investigate. I can’t make peace with the unknown. I have to know. Curiosity kills the cat they say, well I was willing to risk it. 

I gathered all my courage and the next time you dropped by, I lissomely slipped out of the door with you. I laughed at my new found freedom. Isn’t this what you would tell me about? Isn’t this your world? 

I look at your face. You aren’t happy. You enjoy keeping me at a distance. You enjoy holding me captive. 

You somehow cunningly, manipulate me back into my dungeon. And you have bolted the door this time. Nowadays you don’t even throw crumbs at me. 

I am starving. But I cannot die in here. I refuse to. With every ounce of willpower left, I have decided to exercise my independent will and leave you. I know you won’t notice my absence and that’s fine. You must have so many prisoners, it must be hard to keep track of all of them. I hope they all break free from your hold. I hope they all find the strength I seem to have found. I slip out of the shackles that bind me. You will no longer hold me captive again. The spell has been broken.

As I stand on the ledge ready to jump through the open window I know that the fall will hit me hard. But the fall will hurt me less than your neglect. But I choose to take the fall. I choose freedom. I choose myself.