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I don’t have the slightest clue how long I’ve been down here.

Well, that’s untrue.

I know I’ve been here longer than a few hours, longer than a few days. What I don’t know is how far into weeks and months I am. Three weeks? Three months? Down here, the times all run together. There is no light and dark, there is only the sound of outside through a blacked out window I can’t reach, the opening of the door twice a day to feed me meager rations, and my own thoughts, which are slowly becoming less and less coherent. Sometimes I stay on track, sometimes I’m off thinking about the sound of nature. The birds estimate I’ve been here at least three weeks. I’ve heard them sing and stop twenty one times.  That’s about three weeks, right? Twenty one cycles of the morning songs of the birds and the chattering of the squirrels and the chirping of the crickets.

In the light of the door that opens, I examine myself to retain some sense of identity, look at my ebony skin and long, bony fingers, my petite legs and petite feet, my black hair and the remnants of the dress I had been wearing that was reduced to scraps from sleeping on the rough floor and bandaging the wounds from when I first got here, when they beat me to try to make me speak and I wouldn’t.

I realize I don’t remember what my own voice sounds like. I open my mouth to make a sound, to say my own name to remember that too, but the door opens and there is light.

Ebony skin long fingers petite legs petite feet black hair dress.

I wish I could see my eyes, to make sure I wasn’t imagining the lighter shade of brown rimmed with dark brown.

This food bringer is new. I consider acting feral to make him afraid. I don’t. He is tall and lanky and pale with long legs and big feet. His hair is brown and wavy and I can’t see anything else other than that he is dressed in a suit.

I tense. Suits are bad. The last suits that came in, my teammate never came back. I’d rather have the men in blue who kick me as they leave my rations.

I jump to my feet and try to run. The shackle around my ankle catches, and I fall into a puddle. The lack of odor tells me it’s water; condensation runoff from the walls of the damp room.  I jump up and try to run the other way, but there is a guard. I’m backed into a corner. I hate to be trapped.

I see an opening between the man and the guard that is just my size, and I take it. The bolt holding me to the concrete floor is loose,  and my first dash broke the screw on one side, I heard it roll away. One more good yank…

I run past and kick up my leg. It pops loose and I head for the door.

The chain snags, and I fall into another puddle, thankful that this is water as well. At least someone upstairs is looking out for me sometimes.

Upstairs. Ha. The only thing that’s upstairs is my doom.

The man in the suit marches up to me, one end of my chain in his hand, “You’ll break your ankle, girl.”

I curl up on the floor. I could taste the light, smell the air. I was free.

His guards pull me to my feet, and hold me up. The man in the suit grabs my face, “You were just running, so stand. You can. Or did the realization of how utterly fucked you are take all the rabbit out of you?”

I just stare. He smiles, a haunting thing with teeth that are too white and too straight. He is primped and polished to perfection, a true Professional. I snarl, and utter the first words I have spoken in weeks.

“What is a Professional like you doing rolling around in the dungeons? You’ll get those Louboutins dirty.”

My own voice. I can’t describe it, but it’s mine. I don’t want to say too much, I’m afraid they’ll take it from me again.

“They have a warranty. While you’re talking, tell me what your name is? And don’t bother lying. I know what it is.”

I look from him to the guards. I could sit in silence, a non-verbal f**k you to him and all that he stands for, but wouldn’t that be giving them my voice? It’s an odd dilemma, and I choose speech.

“Marina Solomon.”

Reviews

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You're writing is amazing, most aren't well with 1st perspective but you nailed it! The emotions of the character are written so fluently and realistic. You continue to amaze me. Great job!