Thursday, March 14, 2013
Thursday Tales: The Cell
I can hear the door to the cell creak open, but I barely lift my head. It's not even worth the effort anymore. My eyes stay closed.
I try not to move, like he won't notice me if I stay still. But the awareness of him being back makes me aware of the tiredness in my arms. I try to resist, but I can't. I flex my fingers in an automatic attempt to get the blood flowing into my limbs again.
He notices. He notices and he laughs.
It's not a laugh of humor... or maybe it is. Maybe he enjoys this. All I can hear is the cruelty in it. And I cringe. Inside, outside. It doesn't matter. He knows.
As he moves forward, I can hear the whip slide across the floor. He asks me what he asks me every day.
I respond the same way I respond every day.
Again, he laughs. I answered wrong. It long ago stopped mattering what I answered. Every answer was wrong.
He shuts the door. He cracks the whip.
I retreat inside myself to the one part of me that he hasn't yet broken. It's a small part but it's still mine.
Maybe for just one more day. But it's still mine.