I have nothing left. I can’t escape no matter how hard I try. Days slide by, and I sneak out and do what I can, but it never helps.
Finally, the only thing I can do to keep fighting is to refuse him.
I refuse his food. I refuse his questions. I refuse everything he tries to give me. Maybe I can’t break out of my prison, but that doesn’t mean I have to give in to everything he says and does. I listen and sometimes I talk back, but I won’t ever give him what he wants.
I think the silence and lack of interaction have done more damage than good, but I don’t care. I’m so pathetic. I moved from one cage to the next. But I won’t give up.
Every day I watch Gio come in and I wonder if it will be the day I leave the cage and let him do whatever he wants to me. Sometimes I even want him to break his promise and come for me. It would be better that way.
I listen to his voice as he talks to me, but I don’t really hear what he says. Only the commands to eat stand out. Which I won’t do. I don’t care if it kills me. At this point, I’d rather die than be a toy for him. I’ll just stay here and try to sleep my way to death, ignoring the pain.
During the third night, I snuck out of the cage and tried to loosen the pipes in the bathroom. It was well into the night, and normally he didn’t come when there was no light left filtering through the windows. It was pitch black, and he’d never come that late.
But this time he did. I nearly broke my neck diving back into the cage as he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, his intense stare taking me in.
Shame and guilt, oddly enough, consumed me, but fear was the leading emotion.
I’m too afraid to leave the safety of the cage now, and my body aches when I move, so it’s better that I just stay still. The first two days it felt nice to walk, but now it hurts. Maybe it's because I haven’t eaten, or maybe it's because of dehydration, but I’m not sure.
All I think about is the one way out that I have left. Starvation is a slow death and painful, so I should use the bag of heroin and end it quickly. But I’m a coward. And I find myself looking forward to the small bits of conversation he gives me.
There’s a bed and a chair in the room now. They look comfortable, but they’re tools for him. I’m not a fool. He wants me to come out so he can play with me. And I won’t do it.
I wish I had more options, but the door is locked. There’s no way out.
Either I submit to him, or I live in this cage, or I die.
I’ve held on to hope for so long. For so many years, I thought once I escaped my father I’d be free.
I escaped him only to be put in a literal cage, gifted from my family’s enemies to a man with bad intentions. My pussy heats as the only thoughts that have interested me flood into my mind. I don’t know exactly what he wants from me, but I’m afraid to find out. I can’t help but fantasize about him using me in a way that would give me pleasure, give me a reason to live. I’ve only been with one man. It was a mistake, one I paid dearly for, and when my father found out, Derek paid with his life. But I’m only human, and I have urges.
I drift slightly in and out of reality, not sure whether I'm daydreaming or actually dreaming. Sometimes I’m in the cage in the dreams. It’s hard to know when I'm awake, but the pain is a good reminder of what’s real.
Suddenly, I move my eyes from the back wall to the bathroom and I have to blink away the confusion. Did he move the cage? My mind is fuzzy, and I look behind me and then to the bathroom. He did.
I asked him… I think I asked him to move the cage closer. Maybe a day ago, maybe more. It’s so hard to remember when time runs together. But he said I had to come out. He couldn’t move it with me inside. And that’s not happening. I’m not leaving. I won’t give him my permission to touch me.
But now, I’m closer. The cage used to be on the far wall, and now it’s right next to the bathroom. I question my sanity for a moment, but I know its position has changed. I know it has.
Did he move the cage while I was asleep? With me in it? Or did he come in here? I pull the blanket tighter around me.
He said he wouldn’t come in though. He promised he wouldn’t. And he hasn’t.
With the size of his body and all that muscle, I imagine he could’ve moved it with me inside. I close my eyes and see him creeping into the cage and quietly lifting me. My heart hammers in my chest, but for a different reason than I’m used to. Not fear. Desire.
My eyes snap open and I quickly run from the cage, ignoring my thoughts and go to the bathroom now that it’s close enough and alleviate my needs the fastest I ever have. My muscles ache with the quick movements; it’s been so long since I’ve stretched. There’s a pain in my stomach, too. It makes me hunch over and wince, but all the while I hold my breath with my eyes on the cage. I listen, waiting for the sound of his boots outside the door and the beep of the lock. But it doesn’t come. I run back and climb into the cage, and I stare at the door with my fingers curled around the thin bars. I'm waiting for it to open. But it doesn’t.
Maybe he wasn’t watching. I look up at the camera to my right, and then to my left. Maybe he was, and he’s happy I went to the bathroom.
He tells me he’d like me to leave the cage. Maybe I pleased him.
My head’s dizzy with the thought, and my stomach hurts more than it did before, now that my bladder's empty.
Finally, my heart settles some and I move into a yoga pose, the rising sun, to stretch my aching back. The quick trip reminded me of how little I’ve moved; how little I’ve done anything.
The throbbing in my temples and the radiating pain in the pit of my stomach are constant symptoms that I’m unwell, but I can’t give in. I can’t live this way.
I stare at the food on the tray, but I refuse to eat it. I curl up on my side and fall into a light sleep. Only a few more days I think. A few more days until this is over.
