A Captured Heart

Glass. The only thing that kept me from the outside world. Just as thin and fragile as me and just as unclear. I kept myself murky. Feelings pushed into the edges of my mind where they didn't haunt me.

I pressed my palm against the cool window, reveling in the feeling. I imagined myself floating beyond the window, fresh air filling my lungs. The cool breeze mussing with my hair like an older brother. The green grass outside was tempting, but I was stuck. Until my untimely death, or so I assumed. My eyes fluttered open and I yanked my hand away from the window upon the sound of footsteps. They were heavy footfalls.

Dane.

I scrambled to my creaky bed, squeezing my eyes shut. I wrapped my arms around my legs, pulling them to my chest. My old sundress draped over my legs, covering the bruises and scars that would soon be added onto. I knew what was to come. I had to brace myself.

The door creaked open and Dane's heavy boots thudded against the floor, closer and closer still. The key ring he kept around his belt loop jingled with every step too.

"Look at me." He demanded. I lifted my head from my knees, peering cautiously into his dark eyes. "I'm going on another mission and I'm leaving Blade in charge. Any funny business and you're," he cut off to make a slashing motion across his throat. "Understand?"

I nodded my head vehemently. Dane raised his hand like he was about to strike me, but dropped it when I flinched, walking away as he chortled sinisterly to himself. My eyes drooped, fatigue washing over me.

My body just wanted to rest; the only perk about this hellhole. I wasn’t allowed books, magazines, or newspapers. Not to mention any communication devices such as my computer or cell phone. I was allowed to shower on Saturdays and Wednesdays, but even then I didn’t feel very clean. I had two outfits: a sundress that has turned grey over my stay, and a pair of sweats and sweatshirt. Dane was kind enough to buy me a couple extra sets of undergarments which were washed once a week along with my alternating outfit.

The food here wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t very good either. It was usually boxed food that Dane or Blade (whom I’d never met) could buy in bulk. About once every couple of months, when he was feeling generous or had some extra cash, Blade bought us pizza or some other fast food. There were about four other prisoners here at one time, but none of us were allowed to talk to one another. Dane was always paranoid we’d plan a breakout and succeed. If that happened, we’d obviously rat him out. What he did exactly, I had no idea.

Dane would never explain to me why we were here. I’d begged and pleaded when I first got here for him to let me go and for him to tell me what was going on. He wouldn’t budge. All he really did was threaten to hurt me and when I told him I didn’t believe him, oh did I regret it. I’ve learned that the quieter I am and the less I act out, the less punishment I receive. Another thing I don’t understand is that in however long I’ve been here, I’ve seen many people come and go. So then why am I still here?

I’d pondered that question day and night. I couldn’t keep my mind off of it; it was all I had to think about really. I’d come up with a few hypothesis, but nothing ever seemed good enough.

The only thing I could figure out was that I couldn’t catch a fucking break.