Are you my Daddy?

A Story by Raven Starhawk

At my window I stood surveying whatever manifested in my field of vision. A catacomb of thought unearthed upon sights of vehicles passing by, the occasional bicyclist and dog walkers. It was a sunny day with a clear blue sky and I wondered how comforting the sun’s golden rays must feel on their skins; how fresh the air was in their lungs.

I turned to address the state of my surroundings. Cracked stone walls enveloped me, mocked me with their stale gray hues, and prevented me from being heard. No one ever heard me. No one ever saw me despite my only window; a miniature square hardly big enough to squeeze a bird through. No one except for the monster who kept me here knew I existed. It took some time getting used to, but eventually I resigned myself to my fate. What else was I supposed to do? I was tired of screaming. I was tired of crying.

To be honest I can’t remember much before this. When I tried my chest tightened and pressure seized my skull. If I continued my pursuit of recollection my legs buckled, teeth clenched and stomach twisted. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to remember. Maybe it was best I didn’t. Whatever the case, I knew what to expect each and every day. The routine hasn’t changed once.

From outside the steel door a gruff voice, faint at first, would spit profanity. He’d be pushing a table on squeaky wheels cluttered with an array of tools orchestrated for pain. My body was a testament to that. It was useless to cower in wait and by now physical pain was the only thing that silenced my inner turmoil; hushed the longing for whatever it was beyond my window.

I asked him once after he unhurriedly entered, “Are you my Daddy?”

Where his eyes should have been were callous marbles, his disheveled hair sweat soaked and decrepit face twisted, as he hissed, “I’m not your f*****g Daddy!”

He would then proceed to slam the door shut and advance, clutching a random instrument from off the table. His breath always stunk and when he’d smile I noticed missing teeth. He pulled mine some time ago, said I wouldn’t need them anymore. It wasn’t as if he brought me much to eat anyway and when he did it was usually something pasty, soft and tasteless.

I kicked aside a pile of dried feces and sat. Warmth spread beneath me as I emptied my bladder. I watched the puddle swirl toward a square patch of sunlight and a blackened toe. It had broken off a few days ago. The others were likely to follow suit as they too were lifeless, black and cold. It didn’t matter though. I had very little time left. Little by little what strength my body maintained drained and I lay down. There wasn't much permitted to do except sleep and hope I never wake up. Maybe today will be the day that dream comes true.