Caged No More

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. That was untrue. She knew every inch of the image beyond the milky glass and had memorized every dull mound of gray sand beyond. But the feeling of the world beyond was unknown to her. The windowpane was crude, and the glass thick, blurring the image, offering only the faintest image of what lay beyond.

The girl lay in the massive four-poster bed as still as possible. She knew he would wake if she shifted even the slightest bit, but she had to see. It had taken time for her to find the perfect place to sleep so she would wake in view of the window.

The darkness beyond the glass still held onto the world beyond, but in a matter of minutes, the orange fingers would slide over the cresting hillside. Then came the warmth. The room was always cold. Not even the man beside her brought warmth to her cold frame. But the rays that crested the windowpane did. The simple caress, the gentle touch on her cheek. Then the outside world would awaken. The amber haze of the fires still clung to the ground beyond the windowpane, though the flames had long since died, strongly contrasted with the blue film that clouded her vision Inside.

She longed for the morning. It was the only moment she ever felt at peace. The only touch she freely welcomed.

She had practically been a child when she was selected for what They called an esteemed position. The preparation for servitude was painful, but nothing could have prepared her for the pain he would inflict every night. The girl dared to move her hand across one of the scars that mirrored each other on her pelvis. The ridged line reminded her of the mountains she believed she could see in the distance when the light was just so through the window.

The pain--those marks--such pain. She had been told she was lucky, that those not selected had greater scars–scars that ran the length of their bellies where they had removed the life-giving piece of their womanhood. But she could not imagine either path was greater than the other when both paths only brought pain.

Both paths looked at the other with longing; both wanted to walk the other, neither willing to share the turmoil they faced, only believing the other was better. Maybe in the smallest ways, her's was. For her purpose path would serve those on the Inside greatly. At least that's what They had told her.

She had been one of seven selected. The ceremony in the stone gathering room had been brief, with the entire Inside in attendance. There were fewer now, many of the Originals having long since vanished from the stone prison they had willingly locked themselves inside. The selection ceremony had been years ago, though she could still see it plainly.

Each girl stood on the dais, shoulder to shoulder. They had all looked similar, with their hair uncut and untied down their backs. Her locks were a few shades lighter than the others, and her skin a touch darker, but still, they paled next to each other from lack of exposure to the sun. It was whispered her grandmother had been one of the last to enter the Inside before the world burned, but no one spoke of those things out loud any longer.

The ceremony had been brief. They each knew which girl they wanted, having already selected them from the small group on the Inside. When the ceremony was finished, he took her to his room.

She saw the window. For the first time in her life, she saw the light. For the briefest moments, she believed she might find meaning in the breaths she took in his room. That somehow being his would allow her the purpose she had never felt Inside. She was never more wrong. She learned quickly how to become a shell of herself.

Her only solace--the window. They all had one in their rooms, an image to the outside. Every moment of being trapped in that room was harder than she could have imagined, but would she give up the window for the darkened stone corridors of the Inside? She wasn't sure she would. Through the unclear panes, she had light. She had an image of what life might have been, and that was more than nothing.

"Get up," his voice was rough like the stones that built their prison.

She remained still facing away from him and closed her eyes, hoping he would allow her to stay in the minuscule amount of warmth provided by the coverlet.

In anger, he ripped the cover from her naked body and threw it to the floor, "I said get up." He did not wait to make sure she moved; he knew she would. The sound of him dressing filled the space, echoing against the walls.

She stood, her feet turning to ice on the frozen stones, and clutched her arms around her small frame. The newest bruises stood out against her pale skin. The only clothes allotted to her was a heavy cloak made from the finest sheep's wool they had Inside. She picked up the cloak and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. It was the seventh day--They would be coming to attend her. The thought made her legs shake, but she would not show them fear.

His rough hand clutched her arm and twisted her to him. He was bare-chested and his belt was unclasped at his waste. She looked over his left shoulder, avoiding his eyes. “Your game of silence will not last,” he sneered at her. “I will break you my little bird.”

A bird in a cage.

He released her and once he had finished dressing, he left.

Life was repetition. Repeating patterns that never wavered. She washed her face, ran her fingers through her hair, and stood in front of the metal door as she had on the seventh day since being selected.

She had not left his room since being put there many months ago, but the girls who cleaned the room and brought her food had whispered. Not with their mouths, but their eyes had spoken clearly. The other selected girls had fulfilled their duty. Those girls had begun to bring new life to the Inside. Those girls would be honored.

Because life within her had not been confirmed, on the seventh day, she was inspected. But she knew the news would be the same. Her belly remained unswollen.

The lock clicked. She kept her eyes on the ground as They entered.

"She showed the most promise," one man spoke, his voice smooth and rich like cream. There was disappointment in his tone.

She looked up and caught his eyes. For all the cruelty he had marked her with, she imagined his expression would be one of relief to be able to select another, but his eyes were empty save for a hint of pity. A man like that was not capable of sympathy. The emotion he allowed to slip through his stone facade could only have been relief.

A man to her left spoke, "Take her to the entrance and select another when the year ends."

Her eyes went wide. The entrance was never to be crossed. It was the only protection they had against the aftermath of the world’s destruction. The only people who ever passed through the entrance were those who did not uphold the laws of the Inside. People who crossed the entrance did not live.

She wanted to scream, but her unused vocal chords let out only a hores, pathetic, cherp.

So instead she lunged at the man who had condemned her. She was no match for his large stature and he slapped her–hard. Her head flew back, and she could feel the blood fall down her chin–crimson tears.

“We have no choice. You have not fulfill your duty, and you cannot be allowed to return to the others after,” he stumbled over his words but quickly composed himself, “after the honor you have been given within these walls.”

Did they want her to be grateful for the brutality she faced at his hands every night? She stared into his eyes. She had never looked at them, not once during all those nights of pain and destruction to her body. Not once did she look at him while he left his marks all along her arms and legs.

Her promise never to speak was weak against the words buried deep within her chest. Words of hatred, words of pain and blame. She would not allow that to be the moment she broke, but then she saw the emotion in his expression. It was not pity, nor was it relief. The emotion that passed within his deep amber eyes was anger.

He was angry because he had not broken her–she had won.

It was the strength she needed to hold her head high was she was marched through the catacombs. Her feet did not drag, she did not scream, or beg to be released from the fate of death beyond the entrace. Instead, she walked with the power of a queen. They surrounded her, but her eyes were fixed to his back and she willed him to never forget that he had lost at his own game. Those from Inside stopped to watch their march through the underground city. Never before had a selected been cast out, she would be remembered as the bird released from the cage to burn.

At the entrance the whooshing sound of the door being unlocked almost made her shudder, but as she stepped across the threshold into the compression chamber and the door closed her she did not look back.

Another second passed for the door behind her to reseal before the exterior door opened. She imagined her skin would burn. She imagined she would be insinerated or that the breath deep within her would eat away at her body.

But what she never expected was to step beyond the exterior door and for the first time in her life, take a breath of air unrestricted by the pressured of stone walls. For the first time, her feet walked upon warm ground rather than cold stone. She spread her arms wide and lifted her face to the limitless sky.

She was free.