Stolen

4

"This is your best work?" Marlben asked looking around my cell with clear disgust written across his face.

"No sir," I whispered, feeling tears stinging my eyes. I was terrified every time he came to see me. He would slink his way to my cage every other day to share his distaste for my poor skills as a wife.

"Why do you think this is acceptable?" Marlben asked with a raised brow.

"I don't."

"Then why does it look like this?" He raised his voice as he spoke, clearly becoming annoyed.

"Sir, I didn't have anything to clean with," I said quietly. "So I tried to just straighten things up."

I looked around my cage. It was dirty and cobwebs covered the ceiling. I had straightened up my blankets, the few items they had given me, and cleaned the cobwebs I could reach. He looked rather thoughtful for a moment.

"I suppose," he said in his usual bored tone. "I'll be sure to have them bring you a few supplies. As for the rest... it seems alright for what you had to work with. Of course, I expect this to be much better next time."

"Thank you, sir," I whispered. He picked up the book from my blanket pile. I hadn't read anymore of it so I was trying to guess at what he wanted. I wasn't quite sure why, but the book scared me more than it should.

"This book very clearly states that you should not only clean your home, but also yourself. You haven't even combed your mess of hair!" He said raising his voice slightly. I rushed over to my things and grabbed my comb and mirror. I started to run the comb through my hair as quickly as I could before I felt Marlben grab my wrist. I looked up at him as he yanked the comb from my hand.

"Gently comb your hair," he pushed me to sit on the blankets and moved my hair to my back. "It leads to softer, bouncy hair."

I stayed quiet and nodded as he lightly ran the comb through my hair. He gave a small smile as my hair fell down around me.

"I used to comb my wife's hair," he said quietly. He continued combing my hair, until it was nice and smooth.

"Thank you," I said as he handed me the comb back. He shrugged and stepped towards the door.

"Have you read the book?" He asked.

"Not all of it," I replied quietly looking at the ground.

"Why not?" He asked with a slight glare.

"Well... I-I..." I stuttered, trying to find an answer.

"You have to read the book to get out! I explained this already!" He shouted as he moved closer, his face almost touching mine. "What didn't you understand?!"

"I don't have an excuse," I said quietly, looking away from his face. He roughly grabbed my jaw and made me face him.

"If you ever want to get out of this cage alive," he growled through gritted teeth, "then you'll learn to do as you're told."

I nodded as best I could with him holding my jaw. He shoved me back and I fell into my makeshift bed as he stomped out.

I held my jaw as I sat up. I could tell there would be a bruise of his thumb on my cheek. I picked up the book from beside me and forced myself to open it.

4 A good wife will try to spice up her marriage, the husband can't be blamed for his mistress if his wife has left him to be bored.

I closed the book for a moment, thinking of how senseless these rules were. Who could write this? I can barely read it without feeling sick to my stomach.

I opened it again and forced myself to dive further into the madness.

5 She will always make sure he comes back to a tidy home.

6 A good wife will always have a hot meal prepared for her husband.

I stopped reading and got lost in thought for a moment. How would I cook here? I have nothing. Not even food.

Maybe they mean later, but with all these workers I've seen, there must be a kitchen staff, right? Am I to ignore this rule or maybe cook on special occasions? Maybe just bring his plate to him?

I closed the book and sat, leaning against the wall.

"Why me? What am I supposed to do? I don't understand any of this. The more I ask for help from you, the less I understand. I feel so alone here. Please just let me know that you're here with me or something. My faith is running short, but my need for you is the strongest it's ever been." I prayed out loud with a few tears on my cheeks. I spoke to God for hours until I finally fell asleep.

I spoke to him like he was a friend in my cell with me. I felt him touch my soul and I prayed for the strength to keep going in my prison. I knew I would need him if I was going to survive.