Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Napkin Scrawl #29 - Terrors of a Captive

Immense terror resides in my mind as I stand in a dark, dank, dirty kitchen. Cupboard doors are filthy, and some doors have dried on melted vanilla colored ice cream slung across them. The sink is stuffed full of dirty dishes with murky cold water. The counter tops are Formica, reminiscent of the 50’s and 60’s and they are filthy, covered with grease and dirt. It is amazing that there are no cockroaches in sight, but that could be because I occupy the same space. One incandescent light bulb illuminates the area just enough to see the grunge dimly.

Master has set a chair out for me to climb. His task for me is to scrub down the cupboard doors that don the dried-on sticky mess of vanilla colored ice cream. My stomach turns at the look and smell of this room. Master hands me a dirty, grungy cloth, dampened with cold water. “Get to it!” Master growls to me. “Get that shit off the doors!” I nod, affirming his command. Speaking is not allowed without permission.

Climbing the chair to the countertop, I reach the doors that I must clean. Laying cloth to a door, I begin to scrub circles to the area. Apparently, Master got angry one night when he was served melted ice cream. Outraged, he threw his bowl across the kitchen. I can only assume Master beat the one who served him.

In the background, I hear the whimpering and crying of another. Perhaps that one caused this mess. Knowing what I know of Master, I had better clean this mess perfectly, or I will be tortured for failing. I have been here too long and have learned from experience what to expect if I fail. When one fails Master, he tortures in different ways. Master tied up this offender by all fours and gagged them for silence. Master likes his riding crop most of all. I shudder at the thought.

My thoughts continue as I scrub this door. I cannot remember the day Master brought me to this place. I am one of the older women. It is now my job to train the new ones who arrive at this place. All are terrified of Master. If only they would give in to him, their lives would be simpler, easier. Not everyone likes captivity. I know I do not. However, I have watched as others attempt escape. Only those who have died achieve escape. Poor bastards.

My thoughts flash to my children. I have two. They must miss me. Do they remember who I am? Have I been gone too long? Without thinking, I speak out of turn, “Master, may I speak?” My hand reaches for my mouth as if to reel the words back in and my heart jolts in my chest as I meet his eyes with my question. Fear grips as my mind spins in terror. Panic sets in as I realize I have spoken out of turn. Master prefers a more respectful and reverent means of requesting anything. I quickly descend from my lofty place on the counter to lower myself below him. Maybe that will keep Master from his anger. I hope.

Kneeling before him, I beg forgiveness for my insolence and steel myself for the back of his hand. Nothing comes. No sound, no pain, nothing. I open my eyes to see Master staring back at me. Contemplation is in his face as he decides what he will do about my outburst. Will he hit me? Will he tie me up and whip my naked flesh? Or, will he allow my infraction? I bow myself lower, hoping it will sway his decision to forgive me and allow my speech.

The floor is filthy, and the stench is sickening. Master’s feet are at my head. But I press lower. Bile rises in the back of my throat, but I swallow, holding back the vomit that tries to emerge. I hear Master begin to laugh, not a happy cheerful laugh, but an evil maniacal laugh. It threatens me and promises punishment. He knows he has power over me and this pleases him. His laugh brings hatred to the surface, yet I bite my tongue and press the rage back down inside. “Not now.” I tell myself, “Not yet. The time is not right.”

“Very well, speak!” Master approves my request. My thoughts race through my head…I try to formulate my request. Without shifting my position, I speak into the floor because I know that I am not permitted to move, only to speak. I take a deep breath and speak.

“Master,” I begin. “Will I be allowed to see my children?” My heart races and my face flushes. I have decided to be straight to the point and not test his patience with frivolous banter. I listen for his answer, but I hear only his breath.

“No!” Master booms.

Without thought, my mouth speaks again. “Perhaps Master will allow me to call them to let them know I am safe…” I pause, “… in your care.” I hold my breath. Master’s feet shift and I brace myself for pain. His feet shift and move away. I am puzzled. Normally, this outburst would cause Master to become violent. Too many times, I have been bludgeoned or whipped for unwelcome questions. Today it serves him to answer me.

“No!” He denies my request again. “You will never see or speak to your children again! They will grow up believing you have died… or worse, left them.”

Tears well up and begin to fall from my eyes. I hold back the sobs as my heart wrenches in agony. Images of my children flash in my mind as tears fall.

Once again, hatred pushes sadness away. Tears stop falling because Master does not deserve them. My tears are mine and not his! I clench my teeth together, grinding my jaws tightly. Slowly and with a deadness in my voice, I speak one last time. “Yes, Master.”

“Get back to work,” he growls.

Quickly I jump to my feet and climb the counter to continue the work ordered of me. Never once do I meet with Master’s eyes. I fear he would see my seething hatred. I keep my eyes on the task. Anger speaks loudly in my head and Rage agrees wholeheartedly. I can take this no more.

After cleaning the cupboard, I am escorted to the room where we are held against our wills. My eyes still turned down, feigning humbleness. In the shadows, I see many others with my peripheral vision. All are scared. All look to me, the ‘eldest’ as their example. Pushed inside the room, I hear the click of the lock as the bolt to the door is turned. Locked in this room, no furniture to sit on, only dim lighting allows us to see our dismal circumstances. None of us understands why we are here, except we have Master to serve. Whispers from the others begin as Master walks from the doorway.

“What did you have to do?” asks one captive.

“Are you okay?” asks another.

“Did you find a way out?” blurts another.

“Shhh!” I mouth to them as I sit on the floor. Drawing me knees up to my chest I bury my head in my arms. I begin to sob, as I consider never seeing my children again.

The others shuffle and scoot closer to me to comfort me, realizing that something has happened. Once again, Anger and Rage take control of my thoughts. I begin to whisper to all around me. “How is it that we are many and he is but one? Why can we not over power him?” My mind begins to consider all the possibilities, all the past attempts toward freedom. I began to tear apart all the flaws of each past attempt.

The next day, Master brings me outside. We have our usual walk in the sunshine. I am not certain if it is a daily routine or not. However, after allowing Anger and Rage to work together on a plan to escape, I allow my senses to take in what is around me. I hear birds, feel the breeze, see the sunlight, smell the jasmine by the door, and feel the grass under my feet. I see trees, birds, squirrels, leaves, grass & flowers, all so very vivid and beautiful.

Sidetracked with all my senses, I had not realized that Master had stopped to lie on the grass. This seemed strange to me. I had never heard that he ever had done so before. As he lay there, on the grass, it occurred to me that I could overpower him now. I was above him and I could overpower him.

My mind began to construct then deconstruct everything around me. The act of overpowering him excited me. Before another thought went through my mind, I went down to him, embraced him as if to make love to him. He fell right in suit, following my lead. He smelled of pure evil, vile. Repulsed by his touch, Anger and Rage were in control. I took a back seat and watched as they used my arms, my body, and grabbed him around his neck. Squeezing him slowly at first, I felt his excitement. Then at the blink of an eye, my hands took his head and wrenched it around past the stopping point of his neck. He gasped one last breath as his neck cracked and gave way to my force. His body went limp in my arms, not one bit of struggle. Strange.

I let go of his head and watch as it falls to the ground. His face holds one last expression on his face…surprise.

Getting up, I turn to walk back to my room. Anger and Rage have left me numb and emotionless. There is no fear, no remorse, no happiness or cheering. My captivity has been so long, I just have nothing to feel for the freedom I have gained. I retrace my path along the grass, past the jasmine and through the door to the house. The end of my path ends where I first began. Reaching up I open the door to my room, all eyes stop on me. I smell fear is strong as I reenter the room. All notice that the door remains open. I inform the captives that Master is dead and I am responsible. They gasp in disbelief, yet hope I speak the truth.

The others rush through the door to see, to prove what I have said. All brush past me, knocking me like a pinball in a machine between them. I wake from my numb haze and follow. All form a circle around Master, staring down in disbelief when suddenly his head moves and unwinds from the twist I left for him. Shrieks and gasps as all step back, all but me. Without another thought, I slam my knee down on Master, grab his head and twist again. This time I turn full circle, knowing nothing can resurrect from such demise as this.

All look to me amazed and I say, “No one keeps me captive.”


1 comment:

Aim4theNeck said...

Wow, awesome writing HV! :) Aimz x x