Freedom

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. That was his mistake. The smelly giggly woman was another.

'It's dangerous Millie!'

Jack quickly blocked the exit before locking the door and pocketing the key. I knew he was trying to scare me out of escaping, but it wasn't all anger in his eyes; there must have been genuine concern.

I was just having a look!

'You'd end up lost out there! Or worse.'

He was right, of course.

I'd learned to be content just watching the outside world from within the confines of his dusty room. It was an old building; some of its paint had given up hanging on, tired from seeing more sun than it should over the years. But It wasn't a bad room; it had warmth, a bed, and of course the window that wasn't completely blocked. The last window to the outside world. Almost every day, Jack would risk his life on the outside, and some days he would return with more supplies. At least I was safe. Bored, but safe. So I slept a lot.

Jack and I had even become close since he took me. Or "rescued" me as he liked to put it. We didn't talk much, didn't need to. I wasn't much of a conversationalist and Jack did most of the talking anyway. And we slept together—almost every night. I had my own bed, but I didn't care. I felt safer in his. I'd snuggle into his shoulder, and he'd stroke my hair. He'd tell me he was lonely and how I was supposed to fix that. I just listened.

I should've been happier.

I told myself this while I watched the machines rumble past outside, the ones that would "get you and not even stop". Occasionally, I would see the other people too, but I was cautious to hide from them, just like Jack did when he was here. I'd always had a fear of other people, for as long as I could remember, even before Jack took me from my family. I'd learned all about the others out there from the screen Jack would monitor in the evenings. It wasn't pretty.

I should've been happier; I was protected from the outside.

But I was curious.

So through the window I watched. The death machines would pass by, occasionally pause to glisten in the sun before moving on. They were huge, and loud. Some were malevolently silent. And there were the birds. They would taunt me with their freedom from the other side of the rusted bars that protected the window. I could watch them for hours. I'm sure there used to be more, and more trees. I missed nature. The world I remembered used to have more trees. Maybe that world was still out there somewhere, I thought. Maybe I could find it. I could take care of myself! I was small, could slip through the cracks, hide in shadows. I was fast too!

The perilous freedom beyond the window coloured my daydreams of escape as the sinking sun painted the walls a dull ochre. The cloak of night awakened me, I was invincible under it.

The urge to leave was sometimes strong.

Then one warm, safe, dull day, everything changed.

It was Jack's fault. He made it back from the outside that evening in a flurry of excitement with a new person. Sarah. She was small, smelled ridiculous, and giggled a stupid amount, which I found annoying. She wasn't at all interested in me. Jack didn't see, but she dared to push me out of her way once. I saw her face as she did it, over-painted and twisted with jealousy. She went everywhere with Jack, including the outside. Maybe that meant Jack didn't care as much about her as he did me. Well, that's what I told myself. But Jack was different with her. He talked a lot more to her. She stole my place in his bed, too. She knew what she was doing. She'd look me in the eyes with her smug hollow stare as she took it on the nights she was there. Jack said nothing. I felt alone.

But I should've been happier.

Should I? Really? I was less happy now Sarah was here, stinking up the place, and of course I couldn't say anything about it. I'd have to show him. So I waited. I watched and planned. I could show them both, but should I? Could I be happier?

Sarah was careless. Or stupid. When she came or left, she'd leave the door open to the outside world for longer than Jack ever did. She was probably taunting me. It was perfect. It would be all her fault! I just needed to be brave. You can do it! I'd tell myself. I'd need to be ready.

I'd been ready forever.

I chose my morning. The darkness—my cloak of invincibility—hadn't yet abandonned the sky, and the smoky fog that crept in under the door filled my lungs and made me feel nervously alive. I knew when she would return, and her brand of sweat and smoke no longer masked by perfume would announce her arrival. I chose my spot, an old wooden chair near the door. I sat and waited.

The stench grew, Keys jingled. The lock turned, the door opened, sucking in the cold fog. I shut my eyes, leaving just a slit to watch through, pretending to sleep. Should I do it? In she trudged, ready to steal my life again. As usual, she left the door open while she put her stupid bag down and pocketed her key. Up I sprang! Through the door, down the steps into the seething fog, sucking in my freedom, onto the road beyond, and under a death machine.

The sun rose in silence, as if nothing had happened.

The blood splatter on the road scrawled death's signature as a few people gathered around me.

'It's a cat!' One of them said, 'I ran over a cat.'

I just looked up and stared, purring my last breaths. I saw my window faintly through the thinning fog as the beautiful outside world darkened for me, and I felt safe.

It was almost comical.

I should've been happier.

But I was curious.

I showed them.