Tainted

Marcid

Marcid | withered; incredibly exhausted
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Ariadne
I've always hated the dark, as silly as that might sound. It made me feel as though I couldn't breathe, even though there was nothing preventing me from breathing. Papá always liked to point out how ridiculous that was and even went as far as to say I was making it all up. According to him and Mama my "fear" of the dark showed how weak I was and that I needed to toughen up. I see where they were going with that claim, but I didn't agree. They called it a fear, but I wasn't actually afraid; I just felt trapped.

They thought that was stupid.

I never bothered to argue with them or explain myself any further. It was pointless, for talking to them felt as if I was talking to a brick wall. I experienced a lot of guilt when I thought negatively of my parents, it made me feel like a horrible daughter for thinking in such way for the people who cared for me. I often cried over it, even though I knew it wasn't causing them any harm in any way. I guess I've always been sensitive in that way, but I couldn't bear the thought of losing my Mama and Papá.

Sometimes I wish I knew the reasoning behind their actions or why they choose to act on anger in the ways that they do, but that never took away from the fact that I loved them more than anything. I knew in one way or another, they felt the same, but had a different way of showing it. I didn't question it much, for they were all I had.

There was no other family present in my life. Mama and Papá separated from them long before I was born, and the reasoning for that was never clear. However, from what I could gather, it was because they had betrayed my Papá, I have no clue how, but he wanted absolutely nothing to do with traitors even if it was his own blood. So all my life it's always been my Mama, Papá, and I. I guess you'd see why I have such a strong attachment to them, even though my actions lately don't show it.

It's been weeks, if not a month that I've been laying on this cold, hard concrete floor. I had lost track of time if I'm being honest, and the more time I spent in here, the more I grew to hate myself for what I did. I thought about how things used to be before I had gotten myself in this mess, and I was filled with regret.

Everything was going so well for me; I was just about to tell my parents about being accepted to Yale. Even though there was a big chance they would have said no, at least I wouldn't be locked up in the dungeon where I had little to no access to the outside world. The only interaction I had was when the maids brought me food and water, but this only happened once a day.

I saw Papá almost everyday. He was still quite angry and only ever yelled or hit me with his belt. I cried more than I've ever cried in my whole entire life, and even though I could do nothing but sit, I was still more exhausted than ever. I was drained to the point where even eating became too much, and I couldn't help but wonder how long I'd be in here or if I'd ever get out. I was stuck in a dark dirty room, one that many had died in, and the only light that I got was from the bottom crack of the metal door. Otherwise, I was stuck in pitch darkness.

Papá paid a visit to me more than once today, and both times that he did, he only observed me. It was as if he was debating on what to do with me. He didn't yell or glare at me. If anything he looked almost worried. I wasn't allowed to talk to him, so I couldn't ask him. All I could do was assume.

Today seemed odd. Besides my Papá's frequent visits, I heard many mumbles outside my door. I was sure that if I got close enough to the door, I'd be able to make out their words. But, I couldn't find it in me to move. I was able to hear some, but not all conversation. It became clear I was the topic of discussion, and the word auction was used a lot.