Trapped Tears

1

When I was younger, my mama always told me to count my blessings.

When I feel like I lost my way; or if I just can't take life's struggles.

"Just count your blessings, Kiara; and all will be fine"

So, as I sit in this petite bird cage, resting in a room engulfed in shadows; I count my blessings on my charred hands.

     1. I am alive.

     2. I have shelter.

     3. I am fed every now and then.

     4. I have my sanity.

It's sad and pitiful that I can't have more blessings. Everything else I have has been taken away from me.

My family. My friends. My happiness.

The room becomes a flash of red as the colorless lights flicker on. I've been seeing red for the past twelve years and it leaves me colorblind. Outside my metal, bird cage; is a sea of a scarlet that reminds me of a battlefield, which has ended a meaningless war.

Despite my circumstances; I try to stay positive though.

The room could be sparkling white. That would really drive me crazy.

     5. I'm glad the room isn't white.

"Hello Kiara" a man wearing a red V-neck and black pants says coming into the room. He has shaggy blond hair that covers his teal eyes. He looks friendly, and looks like he could just be a happy neighbor that everyone loves but looks can be deceiving.

He was the one who brought me here.

I don't know his name, because he never told me. Whenever I asked, he would pick up the bird cage, and put it over fire; making me scream my throat raw and try to climb the tiny cage like a spider. He would keep me over the fire until the flame died and turned into ebony ash, or until he felt like I learned my lesson.

He walked over to my cage and unlocked the door. "You know the drill, Kiara"

I do know the drill. I am to get out of the cage, and if I do it successfully; then I can leave and go home to my family.

The only downside is that I never make it out.

I have to get out of the cage, without touching anything red.

After he opened the cage, I stayed still. I gave up years ago trying to accomplish this meaningless game. I would hop with my feet in the cage, but would soon trip and fall. Or stay in the cage and roll until I got to the door; but I would touch the floor or accidentally grab his red shirt while trying to stand up. I tried to disassemble the cage and try to make some kind of contraption to get me to the other side; but as soon as he figured what I was trying to do, he put me over the fire and watched my skin bubble into burns as I screamed for every living thing in the world.

"I don't want to try today" I quietly squeak.

The man looks at me through the cage and shakes his head.

"You know what this means, don't you?"

I nod my head as he slowly closes the cage and walks through the open doorway. I want to cry, but if I do then he will take the cage and throw it against the walls. I looked at the walls and saw some parts of the crimson stained walls collapse on itself. He would ignore my pleas and continue to through me around, like I was a dodgeball on the playground. He used to do that a lot, but I figured out how to stop crying.

I just counted my blessings to keep the tears trapped in my jar; right next to my weakened soul.

     6. I'm glad I don't cry anymore.

The man comes back with a pitcher of water that is so hot; I can feel the heat surrounding me like the anxiety that blankets me in the midnight hour. He puts a rag on the handle of the pitcher and walks slowly over to me with it; careful enough not to spill a single drop.

He opens the top latch of the bird cage and slowly pours the scalding hot water in.

At first, it just feels uncomfortable. But as the water becomes thicker and the steam hits your face; you can't do nothing but let out a scream.

The man pours it slowly over my hair, which then travels to my back and to the bottom of the metal cage.

The more water that is put in, the more I have to sit and wallow in it before he opens the door to drain it.

I try to think of other things, but the pain is forever persistent. I grabbed onto the bars of the cage and wailed a banshee's scream before seeing black dots whisk across my vision like the fleeting summers' breeze.

The man soon stops pouring the water and I am left shaking and whimpering. I fear that tears may fall out and I would be burned again.

"Kiara? Are those tears?" he asked, squatting so that he can see my green eyes.

"No; it's the water" the answer wobbles out of my mouth before falling into his ears.

"Good. Now be a good girl and stay quiet for me" he walked out of the room, which places me in the darkness that I know by name.

I try to stay optimistic as the water peels my skin off and attacks at the flesh underneath. I gripped the bars harder as sharp pains dance across my body like a light show.

     7. I'm glad that I have blessings to count.

     8. I'm glad I can still feel something.

     9. I'm glad for the sleep that's about to take me.

     10. I'm glad he left me alone, for now.

I continue to count my blessings as exhaustion wraps me with its blankets, and tucks me into its ebony bed.