Release Me

Part 30

There was no way to know how long I slept, but every time I blinked my eyes open, an unyielding darkness greeted me, as impenetrable as pitch. Sounds, when they arose, were swiftly swallowed by the unyielding walls, while the air itself was so perfectly still that its movement - if any existed - was imperceptible.

I rolled over to get a sense of the space. Fiery streaks lit my skin at the slightest amount of friction. Muscles ached in a dull pain that spoke volumes of the deep bruises I'd endure for the next few weeks.

Despite the discomfort, there was a certain tranquility in it all. The noises of the outside world, once unnoticed, were now conspicuously absent. Here, in the calming silence, I could sift through my thoughts at a leisurely pace, without the relentless tug-of-war of one thought to the next. The weight of the world was lighter. Perhaps it was because of the physical absolution the art show brought. The way Parker defined my transgressions, both perceived and real, then offered the physical manifestation of their consequences upon my body as I worked to avoid each one.

My wrists and ankles reminded me of my stubborn pride and the inability to bow to the pain of my transgressions. I'd fought against the bonds that held me tight, though in the moment it felt like it was against my will. Now the elegance of his vision was apparent in it symbolism and practicality. A moving target was harder to hit with precision and limiting my movement kept me safe.

What hurt far more than the physical impacts of implements I was well practiced at wielding, were the words. While sticks and stones broke bones, words sliced to the core with a precision unseen by the outside world. From Dominick's unexpected declaration of love to Parker's dripping diatribe of disappointment about how I'd been handed the world and threw it back, I wasn't sure which was hurt anymore. Yesterday, even with the twist and turns of my new contract owner, I was sure of the footing on the ground beneath my feet. Now, I was grappling with doubts about my worthiness for what lay ahead.

I shifted on the mattress, a groan escaping my lips as fresh streaks of pain lit me ablaze, plunging me once more into a relentless cycle of physical torment and mental agony, unearthing a litany of emotions I'd thought buried deep in the past. The woman I was yesterday, in her strength and righteous was dead, and now I faced the world like a babe trapped in a soft world human.

"Reach out your right hand and drink the bottle of water," a voice whispered in a stern command. Without thinking, I did as it bid. The cool liquid raced through my parched mouth like a monsoon through a dry riverbed. "Slowly, girl."

The term of endearment caught me and I followed the words. Here I was safe and out there the world wanted to devour me. This place was perfection in so many ways and I didn't want to leave it. When I'd finished the water, I placed the bottle on the pillow beside my head, afraid to move in the darkness. As the seconds ticked by, my eyelids once again grew heavy and I faded back into a fitful sleep.