Under His Rule

My voice echoes against the walls surrounding me. No response.

Shivering, I get up from the floor and feel my way around. I’m in a small cell big enough for maybe two to three people. The shivers become worse and worse.

Then my hands stumble upon a different material. Softer. More giving. Warm.

I stop and tap three times. Definitely wood. A door maybe?

My hand slides down, touching every inch until I find a door handle. I jerk it hard, every tug a little harder than the one before. But no matter how hard I pull, it refuses to open.

Tears fill my eyes as I bang on the wood as hard as I can.

“Let me out!” I scream. “Let me out, goddammit!”

Tears stream down my face as I sink to the floor and bury my head in my hands.

My body is so cold, and it’s growing numb with fear.

Sickness overcomes me, but I swallow it down. I don’t know how long I’m going to be in here, or what they’re going to do with me, but if I’m going to survive … I have to focus.

Keep it together, Natalie.

You’ll get out.

In the darkness, there is no mindset that can save you from insanity except hope and pure fantasy. Hope that one day you’ll get out of here. And the fantasy to know that you’ll be okay.

Because deep down, I already know this is going to scar my soul.

Now

Water.

I never thought I could have a single wish. That I could want for nothing more than just water.

It’s all my brain can think about while I lie shivering on the cold, hard floor, wondering when this torture will end.

I don’t know how many hours have passed, but I know I’m thirsty as hell, and I’m almost to the point of contemplating drinking my own pee. The thought alone makes me want to puke.

Stop thinking about it, Natalie. Just stop.

But I can’t.

Whoever put me in here is beyond cruel.

Without any explanation, I’ve been put here in this hole like a goddamn criminal. I didn’t do anything to deserve this, yet I’m here anyway.

All because I looked at him.

That man was the devil himself.

I’m sure of it.

It’s because of him that I’m stuck here like a rat in a cage.

But when is he going to come and release me?

Only time will tell, and I have plenty.

So much that I’m counting down the seconds until I’m in the millions. I’m talking to myself, to the wall, to anything that surrounds me. My tears have dried up on my cheeks, my skin cracking underneath.

In the middle of the cell, I felt a set of clothes lying on the floor, but I don’t dare put them on.

Putting those on means conforming. It means listening to their demands. It means giving in.

And I am not done fighting yet.

Suddenly, the door opens, and my ears and eyes perk up like those of a dog whose master came back home. But I am no happy dog … I’m the one with sharp teeth and a killer bite.

The light peeks through the small opening, and a woman says, “Put on the clothes.”

I don’t reply. Instead, I get up from the floor slowly but surely.

And I run.

I run like hell, straight for the person standing in the doorway.

Without thinking, I charge at them headfirst. When we collide, I push them aside and run as fast as I can toward the light.

The fresh air hits my lungs like a truck, but I keep going. Through the grass that tickles under my feet, along the path with sharp edges, naked through the harrowing wind. I don’t care where I’m going or how; I just need to get away from that cell.

I don’t look back, don’t care where I’m running from, or where the hell I am.

All I can see in front of me is that fence, blocking my way to freedom.

The fence is all around me, no matter how many steps sideways I take, it seems unending.

I feel a prick on my back, and then a current causes me to spasm and collapse to the ground.

“Goddamn, you run fast.” It’s the same voice from before, the one who told me to put on the clothes. The pain makes me roll on my back, and an older, wrinkly faced woman wearing a white outfit that I can only describe as nun-like leans over to look at me.

“Aren’t you lovely,” she says with a smile so duplicitous it makes my heart shrink.

“Let me—”

She pushes a button on the Taser in her hand, and another current of electricity runs through my body, rendering me incapable of moving, let alone speaking.

“Now, now, settle down, settle down,” the woman says. “You’re going to hurt yourself if you continue like that.”

When she stops, the pin lodged in my back hurts like hell.

“Please …” I mutter.