birdcage | ongoing

thirty| trapped

September 2010
• • •

Winona had been asleep when the basement door creaked open. She could tell that it was the middle of the night because of how dark her surroundings were. It wasn't like the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling was doing anything to illuminate the place, but it gave her comfort by driving away the shadows she saw in the corners of the room.

Her arms wrapped tightly around her shivering body. It was a summer night, but the cold seemed to penetrate her very bones, leaving her yearning for warmth that seemed forever out of reach. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, a relentless reminder of her empty and unsettled state. The remnants of breakfast lingered as a bitter memory, quickly expelled from her body, leaving her deprived of sustenance since then. It was unusual for her to feel such intense cravings, the desperate longing for forbidden indulgences. Thoughts of chocolate ice cream and the creamy richness of peanut butter invaded her mind, their allure heightened by her deprivation. The yearning was so strong that she could almost taste the sweetness on her tongue, and tears threatened to spill as the longing consumed her.

Winona didn't have to lift her head to know who was coming. Harry was the only person with the key to the basement. He could walk in and out as freely as he chose. But he said she'd be here for two days and only hours had gone by.

She feared that he was here to punish her again. A part of her felt like she deserved it though. This was all her fault, after all. She didn't know Wes yet became intimate with him. This was just a consequence of that bad choice.

"Winona," Harry's deep voice called out to her, fragmented, sounding as if it was a part of an awful dream she was having. But it was real. Everything that had happened was real. He crouched down near the couch, and she saw his face, realizing that he, too, was real.

"Mr. Meyer..." the rest of her sentence dissolved into a whimper.

"It's alright," he soothed. "You're alright."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me down here any longer," she begged agonizingly. "Please."

Harry's countenance was flanked by sympathy for her. Once again, she was that helpless little damsel seeking the comfort of her knight despite him being the cause of her dire situation. "Hush now, birdie. I'm here, aren't I? I came to take you upstairs."

Winona was too terrified to feel any relief. For all she knew, he might have been plotting something worse. But she wasn't left with much of a choice—it was either she remained in the cold, damp basement for another day or heeded to his requests. She offered up no resistance as he hooked one of his arms under her knees and wrapped the other around her back, lifting her from the couch. Her aching head fell against his chest, where she could hear his heart beating powerfully, reminding her that none of this was a fantasy that her drowsy mind conjured. He really was here to save her from... himself.

"We have a lot to discuss, birdie. But first, you need to take a bath and get some food in you. I'm still upset about what you've done." Even as her eyes rippled shut, she sensed his rigid stare weighing heavy on her like cement. "So don't think I've forgotten or that all is forgiven."

She clutched the front of his shirt and tried not to flinch at his severe tone, failing once a broken cry fled from her parted mouth. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are." Harry planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "Let's go up."

While he walked, she took the time to formulate her next course of action. How was she going to get out of this? If at any point she did something to anger him, it would probably be her demise. She was already skating on thin ice, and it was taking everything for him not to lock her down here until she breathed her last. The wooden stairs felt like they were going to give out at any moment, but he eventually made it to the top and ambled out of the door. She winced in discomfort; her eyes were not fully acclimated to the bright light illuminating the hall after hours spent in the dark.