The waiting game

Her anxiety grows, alone in this cell waiting for either freedom or she fears more punishment. A tear falls as she gazes around her room. A small childs bed that she had outgrown years ago. A small four drawer dresser sits in the shadows, barely filled with clothes. A small wooden table by her bed that holds her only light.

A fair glow illuminates the top of the wooden table and a small portion of her bed. She looks at the lamp remembering the joy she felt when he had givin it to her. It was old and faded but once had a brightly colored picture of a field with lilies and daffodils.

She smiles imagining herself running through a field of flowers barefoot and free.

Her daydream collapses as a door slams down the hall. Fear grips her as footsteps head her way. Closing her eyes she prepares herself for what's to come. When she hears another door open then close she exhales slowly while wiping away the tears that she had promised herself she wouldnt shed.

He plays the waiting game excellently and viciously.

The daylight that once filled the room slowly retreats leaving nothing but the shadows to keep her company. She fears the darkness, the shadows and the unknown. To many nights the darkness allowed the evil to penetrate her body and mind. She wishes for sleep, but he had forbidden it and the fear he would take her only light again as punishment swell up inside her. She mustn't fall asleep.

Slowly she walks to the window, she lays her head upon the cold glass. She breathes deeply and stands straight to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Her gaze falls upon the nails embedded into the wood, to trap her in and to shut the world out. The darkness shows nothing, the stars even hide this night. She listens carefully trying to capture any sound of life out there but the world seems to have faded away into the darkness. No sounds emerge, not even the wind speaks to her as if it too is anxiously holding its breathe waiting.

Again she hears a door followed by footsteps. She turns towards the door and waits. Taking a deep breath she promises herself again that she would not beg or plead or shed a tear no matter what punishment she received. As she prepares herself, the footsteps once again pass her door and soon disappear. Her resolve starts to crumble as she slowly sinks to the floor. As the waiting game continues she loses herself in watching the shadows that seem to dance joyously around her.

She bolts straight up onto her feet, coughing back the scream that almost escaped her lips. Swallowing hard she tries to calm herself down. She pushes the nightmares down, down within the hollow pit of her mind. Into the void where they disappear and become forgotten. As her body relaxes she feels the warmth on her back. Blinking the tears back she realizes the day has begun. Listening closely to the sounds of the house she hears no movement. As she watches the shadows retreat from the light the realization hit her, she had fell asleep. Fear rises up at the thought of her being caught sleeping.

Retreating from the window she turns towards her dresser, she needs a bath but knowing she will not be allowed one she decides to just change into clean clothes. She also needs to relieve herself, she couldn't remember the last time she went. She turned to her closet, it was completely empty except for a bucket he had placed in it for her bathroom needs. However using it always angered him and so she learned to never use unless she had to. Turning away from the closet she decides to just focus on changing her clothes. She has outgrown most of her clothes and all of them are faded and stained. She changes into the only outfit that still fits her then grabs a brush. Without a mirror to guide her she brushes her hair. She allows her long brown hair to fall upon her shoulders. As she quickly brushes her hair the thought of putting it up stops her cold, a decision she has to make every morning. Down or up? Either way is bad however up hurts less and less hair is pulled out when he yanks it.

Once shes done she sits on her bed and waits. With nothing to do but to wait her fear of the day starts to rise up inside her. She knew he hadn't come into her room last night, so the old anxiety mixes with new ones. The waiting game continues. She lays down and dreams of fields full of flowers running barefoot and free.

The door slams, she jumps up and fear seizes her. She fell asleep. He stands there leaning against the shut door watching her. His chest falls slow and even, his gaze shows only anger and hate, filling her with a horror that stopped her heart. Silently she sat knowing silence is all he'd accept from her. Under his continued, cold hard stare she began to squirm. She hadn't known him to be a silent still tormentor. She lowered her eyes, scared she'd fall into the darkness and hate his eyes portrayed. After many excruciating minutes, she heard him approaching her bed. He lightly touched her hair. Frozen, she dared not move, her heart began to beat heavily, tears started rolling down her cheeks. Her fear heightened, confusion rattled her mind. She was prepared for the yelling, the hitting, but not this. Every light touch sent a new wave of fear, a new terror engulfed her. With her eyes tightly closed she fought the urge to scream. As he softly touched her cheek the tears she tried so hard to control burst forth, she was not prepared for this and her composure was starting to falter. Then he walked away, she slowly raised her head as the door softly shut behind him. Gasping for air she lay on her bed and allows all the pain and fear to soak her pillow, knowing the waiting game has only begun.