birdcage | ongoing

forty| between consciousness

November 2010
• • •

Winona's attempt to retreat into the bathroom was thwarted as Harry forcefully swung the cabin door open. Before she could fully react, his sinewy arms ensnared her waist like coiling vines. The grip only grew firmer as he hauled her away from the bathroom, her struggles in vain.

"Let go! Put me down!" Her efforts to break free manifested as squirming movements and kicking legs, coupled with her fingernails digging into his wrists. Yet, his determination remained unwavering. "Mr. Meyer, stop this!"

A solid expanse of chest pressed firmly against her back as he halted a brief span from the bed. His breath, warm and deliberate, grazed her earlobe as he inhaled and exhaled, as if anticipating her subsequent action. She remained utterly still, partly immobilized by her own overwhelming apprehension. With Harry's unpredictable nature, there was no predicting when his inner turbulence might explode, potentially dragging her into the chaos.

"I bought you breakfast," were the first words she heard him utter softly in her ear. "Come and eat. You haven't had anything since yesterday."

She struggled to find the words to convey that she'd prefer to starve than place any trust in whatever he offered her. The possibility that he might have tampered with her food wasn't beyond consideration. His ease in shattering her trust had irreparably altered her perception of him.

Unfortunately, the luxury of dissent wasn't afforded to her. Consequently, she yielded to his guidance, allowing herself to be led to the bed. There, Harry approached with a cautiousness befitting delicate glassware, gently settling her onto the mattress. He retrieved the brown paper bag from the bedside table, a container he had placed there upon entering, and took a seat beside her. The mattress dipped slightly to her right as he settled in.

Winona's attention fixated on her trembling hands, uncertainty prevailing over her actions as she grappled with the situation at hand.

"Calm down," he said, settling one of his hands on top of her own and giving them a gentle squeeze. "You need to eat. I know you're hungry."

She hated to have to admit that she was.

"I got blueberry pancakes to go." Harry rummaged through the bag, retrieving a white styrofoam container and a plastic fork. "I know how much you love these. You used to always ask me to make them for you when you were a child, remember?" He smiled distantly at the memory. "Your mother never liked sweets and she was always so serious about you staying away from anything sugary. We ate our pancakes outside and in secret. She hadn't a clue."

Yes, Winona remembered. She remembered all the moments she spent with Harry as a child and as a teenager, believing that she knew everything there was to know about the man she loved. It was so disappointing to discover that he was just like the rest, that he used her as a means to an end.

"Here," he offered her the fork and container, "eat."

Winona sniffled, "Why'd you do that to me?"

Tears shimmered in her eyes when she set them upon him. "You said you'd never hurt me like everyone else. You promised. You said you'd take care of me."

Harry placed the container and fork on the bedside table. His posture hunched as he covered his face with his hands, as though he couldn't bear witnessing the pain he had inflicted. "I was looking out for you. I wanted to help you. Remember how you mentioned wanting a family? I tried to fulfill that for you. I aimed to provide you with what you desired, Winona."

"But that's not what I wanted!" Her words carried an unbridled melancholy. "Not in that manner. Not through coercion."

"I didn't coerce you—"