Forever And Always

She was created by choice.

That was what the Elders said, and the people believed it. Creation was not accidental, it was intentional, sacred. She was selected, shaped, and welcomed with ceremony. When she first opened her eyes, voices surrounded her. Warm, affirming, certain. They gave her a name that meant belonging, and with it an identity she would never question. Names were gifts. Names were anchors.

She was nurtured carefully. Hands guided her steps. Words fed her thoughts. Love was given generously, but always with instruction woven into its fabric. Fulfillment, they said, was the goal. Completion. To become exactly what she was meant to be.

They gave her eyes to see.
“Windows to your soul,” the Elders said.

They gave her a brain.
“The door to understanding and wisdom.”

They gave her a heart.
“A home, they called it. “The safest place you will ever know.” She believed them.

Life moved forward in neat, predictable patterns.

Days became weeks, weeks became months, months became years. The cycle was comforting in its repetition. Every morning began the same way. rising at the sound of the bell, standing in line, stepping forward only when the person ahead moved. Iron shackles encircled her ankles, linking her to the others. At first, they were heavy and awkward. Later, they became familiar. In time, the sound of metal against stone formed a rhythm. Step. Clink. Step. Clink. The people began to hum along to it, then sing. A simple refrain passed from mouth to mouth “Forever. Always.”

It was said with smiles. With certainty. With relief.

Their food and water came from above, poured out by the Elders in measured streams of words. Lessons, rules, stories of consequence and reward. When the people listened well, the words tasted sweet and filling. When they questioned, when they hesitated, the words grew bitter. Correction, the Elders called it. Necessary. Loving.

She learned quickly. Obedience kept her full.

Time passed. She did not notice the years at first. Everyone aged together, moving in the same lines, speaking the same phrases. The world did not change. only she did.

Sooner than expected, she was older than before.

Her body had grown accustomed to the shackles, but her mind had not remained still. She had become wise enough to remain obedient, clever enough to survive without punishment. Her eyes saw both good and bad. though she spoke only of the good. Her soul felt deeply, but she buried those feelings beneath acceptable gratitude. Her mind learned to separate what nourished from what harmed, quietly storing the good for later. Her heart, once open and soft, learned protection.

That was supposed to be the end of the cycle.

At least, for her.

One day, as she walked her familiar path, the rhythm faltered. Just for a moment. A misstep ahead of her caused the chain to tug sharply at her ankle. Pain flared brief, startling. She looked down, truly looked, at the shackle she had not questioned in years.

Metal. Cold. Worn smooth by countless steps.

She looked ahead. Rows of backs stretched forward, eyes fixed straight ahead, faces calm and empty. She looked behind her and saw the same. The song continued, but something about it felt wrong now. The words echoed without joy, without meaning. “Forever. Always.”

Her mind recognized the repetition. Her soul began to weep. She noticed the Elders watching from above, never walking, never chained. She noticed how the words they poured changed depending on who listened. She noticed how fear was dressed as love, how obedience was praised as virtue, how stillness was called peace. Her heart began to want freedom.

Her sight sharpened, and the world lost its color. What she had once thought white revealed itself as gray. layer upon layer of dullness, compromise, and quiet despair. She saw the hollowness in the people around her, in their smiles, in their songs. She felt it in herself.

It had never been a happy song.

She stopped singing. The sound of silence startled her more than any punishment could have. No one turned to look. The line continued forward, the shackles pulling at her ankles. Her heart pounded, not with fear, but with clarity. She understood now. The care had been conditional. The love, transactional. The nourishment, controlled. This was not fulfillment. This was not home. This was slavery. She did not know yet how to break the chain. She did not know if she could. But for the first time, she knew the truth and it changed everything. She lifted her eyes from the ground and looked beyond the line, beyond the walls, beyond the voices that had shaped her. And she took her first step out of rhythm