Behind the Last Window

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse through the window in his room. She can't remember anything before the abduction. Her brain has been racked many a time, trying to recall her life. Aurora has been a prisoner of her captor, The Tormentor since before the fall of man. She was just a little girl when this psychopath snatched her up.

Yearning to merely look out of the window and see real life, she saw only the fact that there were no walls outside. You could keep on going and never come back, free as the bluebird she always sees flapping around outside. The bird has been a savior of the girl, yet anger fills her body at the sight of her avian friend, coming and going as he pleases.

Her warden has to make a mistake, he's been getting lazy and slow as of late. She's seen glimpses of destruction and people running in all directions outside. It feels like the world has ended...or the beginning of the end. She knows what's on the other side of the window is harsh and brutal, but it has got to be better than being The Tormentor's doormat. ''I must steal another glance from the window'', she thought out loud.

Aurora has been in a basement for years, never realizing the world was falling apart around her. He told her what she needed to know, keeping her away from the truth. She was barely ten when she was taken. There was a bag on her head for the first two weeks. The strands of fabric tickle her face in an increasingly, unfunny set of situations that would eventually just turn into regular life. Only ever able to see blotted-out figures of human beings, she realized she wouldn't be getting out any time soon as she first thought. A bag on her head would be the least of her worries.

All hope was dashed when she found out her parents had a funeral for her making it easy for him to keep her hidden. He hurt his hands building a secret room in the house. He would skip the mend and healing of his hands, giving way to a mild infection and headache. She noted this in her mental typewriter. When humanity was nearly wiped extinct, she sat chained up, begging for anyone to listen to her. All she could hear is The Tormentor's muffled voice repeating over and over in her head, "Good Dog". This kept ringing in her ears.

Stuck in his room on most days, today was no exception to the rule. He prefers her there, but whatever he says goes. He chains her up around the post and locks it. He's had dogs he's treated better. The chain goes slack as he heads towards the front door, exiting with no thought of her pain or plight. Always so stifling in here, and it smells like moth balls. I'd clean up the place if he would just let me. The leash he holds is gripped tightly like the last throes of death. She was free of him for a few minutes and takes full advantage of being able to think. Stretching her legs with a sigh of relief, momentarily releasing her anxieties.

She sighs and breathes in deep and slow. As calm begins to wash over her, she hears a rustling and commotion outside. She sees The Tormentor in the distance, grabs a stranger's face, and bludgeons it repeatedly. Is this what she has to look forward to outside? She'd be on her own and she doesn't even know what it's like in the outside world. He must have knocked it loose while dragging heavy furniture across the floor, leaving behind a tiny rusty nail. There was a nearby bottle of rat poison in arm's distance. He left it there lazily, passing out with a beer instead of taking care of the organization of hazardous chemicals. He wasn't quite as sharp as he was when I was a little girl, if I can get just a drop of poison in his bloodstream I may have a shot. She coats the nail in rat poison, envisioning him foaming from the mouth as he chokes and dies. Spitting on the nail for good measure, sending all of her ill wills with it. The rust alone will give him tetanus, but I am not waiting that long. She pierces it into the backside of the wooden post, hiding it and saving it for later.

The one time she want's him to come back, he's off doing God knows what. The more length of time away from me the better. He has suffocated me for far too long, this will no longer stand. It feels like ages until I see him walking back. He seems tired. He seems very slow right now. She starts to yank at the chains, as they scrape against the wooden post. If she was trying to handsaw her way out, it might work in a week. Doubts begin to form in her mind about getting captured. Looking out the window she sees he's on his knees resting. I'll gauge how tired I think he is, and if the time is right I'll finally make my much-anticipated move. The front door swings open with a long played-out creak as The Tormentor enters the abode covered in someone else's blood. He passes her by and doesn't even glance up at her. The slight scent of smoke wafts off of him as he hastily paces around the other room. She could have been gone and he wouldn't have noticed.

Years after her abduction, and years before her freedom she would be stricken with the harsh realities of young womanhood. Tampon distribution was off of the tables now, so they were hard to come by. Not many applicators to choose from these days when there were once walls of lady products to sort. When the day came, it happened like a whirlwind of anger, blood, and tears. The crimson tornado would put a wrinkle in his once-thought-concrete plans. Puberty came with destructive force and confusion, geared toward herself and her Tormentor. Can you imagine him scanning the aisles of the supermarket for products? For a while, he ran around with his head cut off, while she flowered into a woman. He hadn't the slightest clue of how to handle things.

He tormented her, yet at the same time paid her no mind when not inflicting his will. When he wasn't hurting her, he was avoiding her. His head was kept down until outsiders invaded his property, countless times. Some came to ask for help. Others came to take what he had. He has a 10-year supply of food, water, and medicine. He also has a dog for breeding, Aurora and her eggs were a thinning commodity in the world. Years have passed since she became a woman. He will never take that away from her.

Aurora only knew how to be a woman, as a prisoner, during an apocalypse. This wasn't the best path for a young woman, though she often forgets she did not choose to be there. Reality blurs between lies and dreams, twisting their soul's purpose. Her first kiss was a forced smack on the lips, and her first sexual experience was beyond mere rape. This was a desecration of my soul. I would rather eat dog food out of the bowl on the floor, over what he refers to as "Making Love". Makes me sick every time missionary is approached. This is my basis for sexual relationships. Odds ever stacked against me, I will get out of here before I'm dead.

He began hastily packing suitcases, packing with such ferocity Aurora has never seen in him until now. She sits squarely on her bottom with her legs extended, chains jangling against her legs, arms, chest, and torso. She's watching this panicked Tormentor with his mind split, making erratic decisions and body movements. Her captor was murmuring something under his breath. She steadies herself, squats, and keeps that position waiting for a chance to pounce. It has to come off as natural or he'll knock me out. Maybe take some teeth this time. She eases up a bit.

Her warden walks over to her with his bags in his hand, eyes wide like he's seen a ghost. I almost think his eyes are going to pop with oozy goodness. The plans begin to be laid out for Aurora, and she tells him why he should take her with him. He could just let her go and fend for herself. To be honest it would be easier just to leave her behind. ''You're already slowing me down, I've got to go'', he says. This definitely worries her.

He kept the key in his pocket, almost at all times and she knew this. Aurora just has to grab it at the perfect time. He was avoiding her more than usual this time, something was going on. She could smell smoke. We've always been far away enough from everyone not to have to breathe in smoke. This seemed quite close. Aurora asks her Tormentor to release her. She begs him one last time as he turns around to leave. She got her answer with The cold shoulder. I've gotta get him close to me.

She yells out, "Wait!". He turns around interested, yet still met with disdain. ''What is it, woman''?, bellows her captor. She proposes one last kiss before certain death and he agrees to the terms, dropping his suitcases on the floor with a thick thud. She actually thought, maybe he'll actually try this time. The Tormentor walks in fast for a kiss and grabs her, holding her close to him. Aurora reaches behind the post and comes out with the nail. She thrusts the rusty tool into his jugular, piercing his skin. Her captor stumbles back, almost tripping over the rat poison. He bleeds out more than they both expected, and the Warden stops the blood as fast as it had been spraying out. He puts pressure on his wound with a dirty handkerchief.

Her Warden is filled with adrenaline and lunges at her with intent to harm. He is now possessed by a terrifying force of nature. His eyes resemble a great white's black marble eyes. Aurora's eyes are drawn to that decrepit window seal and its many cracks and imperfections. The Warden rams into her with such force, she slams into the broken refrigerator. "You're gonna pay for that", he exclaims. He spits and sputters in agony, his body writhing with chills. The pain is so bad he wants to kick a goat in the face.

The breath is knocked clean out of her. Grasping for air, her body knocks at every attempt for a long inhale. For a full minute, Aurora and her captor sit and shallowly breathe, looking dizzier and dizzier with every passing moment. They both have this cruise ship swagger going on, swaying in the breeze. He is hit with vertigo and comes crashing down like a falling plastic bag filled with grapefruits. A smirk actually comes over her face. "When things are good!", she thought.

Reaching for his ankle gun, she picks up a knife, part of the set from the last Christmas of humanity, and starts throwing blade after blade. She completely misses him until the last knife lands in his right shoulder with a ''Snikt!'' The Tormentor is beyond stunned and is caught dead in his tracks. His hand goes for the gun one more time, just as he starts coughing and his body goes into convulsions. Foam starts seeping from the sides of his mouth. The amount and consistency increase with every death cough. Buckets of sweat can be filled as the chills keep rolling into his body. The nervous system is attacked all the while his blood toxifies. His tongue is bitten quite badly. Nearly levitating every time a coughing fit happens, the heart of The Tormentor straining with every use, he has a stroke brought on by the poison and bodily trauma. His time has ended as his last exhale extinguishes life. Immense relief flows through her. Aurora grabs the pack of matches near the food bucket.

With a smile on her once sullen face, she turns toward the Master window, thick clouds of smoke form in the distance outside of the pane of glass. Panic vibrates throughout her body. She immediately goes for the keys, searching every pocket for her silver meal ticket. It's not in his pockets. The bags! I've got to check the bags but they are way over there. Chains won't let me reach that far. "Shoot!", still having about the same vernacular as her pre-pubescent self, she politely curses.

There happens to be a rake in grabbing distance, so she goes for it with haste. Gripping the end of the rake, her arms extend as far as humanly possible. As she walks forward toward the bags, the chains pull tight. Stretching out as far as she can, the chains choke her throat and chest. So darn close, she thought with annoyance. A cloud of smoke makes it into the house, and she looks out of the window at an ever-growing glow in the distance. Fire finally made it here, that's why he was trying to flee to the countryside. There had to be more out there than fighting and fires. I don't think that matters very much now if the fire touches the house, I am screwed.

Aurora drops the rake in front of her. "Screw it!", she says as her decision is made. "I'm taking your dang shoes. Mine now". She hasn't worn shoes in over 8 years, stepping on various sharp things over the years. If she still had her light-up sneakers from the initial abduction, her feet would never be cut up so badly. They had built up thick callouses so that they could withstand damage while barefoot, thick soles. I don't think she really needs his shoes, but it's the principle of the situation, she deserves something for herself. The Tormentor isn't using them. As she pulls his left shoe off, the intense smell of ammonia, feet, and body odor inhabits the small space. She can smell his feet over the thick smoke while discarding the shoe. The taste is in her mouth as she wretches. She reaches for the right shoe and pulls it off. She hears a clank. The key is gleaming up at her, whispering in her ear to pick it up. Looking up at the window she sees a small portion of the window outside catch fire.

She unlocks the lock, and she can hear the mechanism disengage. The chains hit the floor like they were never meant to bind her in the first place. The fire jumps from the bottom of the window to the roof, just in time for her to go grab the bags and walk out as the fire drops down into the living room. The recliner is set ablaze. Good riddance, that was his favorite place in the house. I can now smell his roasting flesh, it actually doesn't smell too bad, to be honest. I'm not even going to entertain that thought. She steps through the threshold leaving the burning abode in her rearview. She never looks back, walking with such confidence as a runway model. Though, her appearance was more serial killer survivor. She had vowed to make it out of that God-forsaken house, in a rather timely fashion I might add.

She finally leaves the suburbs, with the city far behind her now, she heads toward the edge of the county countryside. There's no one on the road, it's a ghost town. Whatever county I may be in, I've gotta find somewhere isolated. He moved me around so much at first, I could never catch my bearings. My inner compass always fails me. None of this looks familiar to me. Where am I? On her way past the bus stop, she sees a skeleton with a sign hanging from its shoulders. The sign against its chest reads," They won't let us go''. Curiouser and curiouser danced into her mind. Now she finally made it to an old country road, a classic dirt road from here on out. Where was she? This is like a different country to Aurora.

She is nearly in the woods when she hits an invisible wall. She can only see black for a few seconds, then faint lights. Her head was knocked badly. She holds her hand out at the wall, it has a force to it. She looks up at the sky, it hasn't changed since she left the house. The sun has been in the same spot this entire time. How far does this thing go? She looked left and right, not sure where it might end. Leaving behind a defeated look on her face, she presses on the walls with her hands.

Her hands start striking the wall, repeatedly slamming with thunderous force. She pulls out the matches from her pocket and sets fire to a pile of leaves right up against the wall, the smoke showing glimmers of the force field. A drop of rain hits her on the forehead, and a cloud forms just above the leaves and pours its contents snuffing the fire out for good. Her mouth is open to catch excess water. Auror needs water to drink. She hits the wall one more time as the rain stops, and the cloud dissipates.

To her right, she sees something far down the line. Her left hand extends as she touches the force field and follows it along until in the distance she comes across a weird sight. There's something hanging on the force field, like a picture on a wall. It looks like it's just floating in the air. When she gets to it, she finds a damn water feeder. She slinks back for a moment as something hits her on the head. It's a large food pellet, more slam down around her. As she looks up she can see a large dark extending appendage from an unknown viewer.

I know when someone is grooming me to be a pet. Seems I escaped one prison to find a new one. No wonder nothing looked familiar. We are in a habitat, and they are much larger than I am. As she stared behind the last window, she broke out of one prison, though. What's one more?

The End.