Caged

Why do you haunt me? You are shadows, figments of the world around me, yet I cannot escape. You are a cage holding me within the darkness of company; solitude is all I seek. I cannot escape. The walls are closing in, wrapping me in death's embrace. But no, that would be too easy for the likes of myself, for I cannot escape. The cage you have put me in---you, wanting to torture and cut me deep---serves not as a prison for me, but as a safety against you. Here, sitting tightly in the middle of this pale room, empty and pale, I am truely safe. Here is my prison; the locks are my wardens. As long as they never click, never release their ever comforting clutch on me, I shall be safe.

Why will not the plotting cease? Even now I can hear your footstep on the stairs, trying, grasping, hunting. I can see you through the protection of my bars, my walls of cement and paint. Your eyes seek me out, wanting desperately to find me. I cannot let you find me. You are pain. You are suffering. You are hatred. You are the cords that bind my soul tight, choking the last gasps of life out of it. Why can't you leave me alone? I can hear your voice at the door, calling me. The grating sound of lips put to word seem so innocent to those who do not know, but I know. I know everything. Your naive statements are nothing more than a ploy, you demon, for here I am safe. Here these walls will protect me from the abominations in the world. Here you cannot get me.

Why must I feel sick? I tried to brave your wiles and traps, steal your food and consume your water, but it was a trick, a ploy. Your cunning went beyond what I had anticipated. Never again. Never again will I underestimate you. Never again will I brave what I cannot trust. But my supplies have run scarce. I know, for I have counted them again and again. They are running out. They will not last long. I will need to brave their wiles again.

Why cannot I breathe? My face is buried in the bowels of this ceramic bowl. I can feel my insides push against my neck, screaming for release, but I force them down. If I cannot be freed from my prison, neither can they. They are my last source of power in this cruel world of shadows and daggers. My hands feel as though the daggers of the shadows have pierced them. It has been far too long since I have felt cold water running over them. I cannot--

No. It cannot be. They are here. There, on the other side of this smudged window. I can see them now, their beady eyes staring back at me. They mock me with their mimicry. The slack and dried face, matted with blood and hair, it is there. I know it. They broke the locks, forced the cage. I am not safe. There is nowhere safe. There is nowhere to run. The sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes beckon me, tease me to do something. But I will not run any longer. No, the fear is theirs; the pain belongs to them. No longer will I hide in my shell. Today I fight.

What just happened? The figure is gone, shattered into a million pieces. My victory is won. My enemy has fled, the eyes and piercing stare with him. Piercing. My hand, it bleeds. Red splashes onto the tile in front of me. The price of victory is pain, suffering. I know what that is. They are my friends; the blanket and pillow I sleep with. They know me, and I them. It will not be long before we are together again, me and my family. Father Fear, come hold me. Protect me from them. Protect me from humanity.