The day my husband got sick was the worst; he was the light of my life. He always cheered me up when I was down and always put me first before anything else. Robert was everything to me. The day he passed away I lost myself; I didn’t know who I was. I looked at myself in the mirror and I couldn’t recognize myself. I decided to leave town to figure out who I was. Walking for miles, I found a little cottage in a forest filled with beautiful views of tall trees. I would spend my days in the sun walking around the nearby creeks. When I would get bored, I tried to keep myself busy, so I decided to paint my cottage. The reason for this was because painting was my husband’s passion and I wanted to see why he loved it so much. I left to go buy painting materials which were located far in the city.

After a lengthy trip, I got the materials and headed back home to carry out his legacy. Since I left everything behind in order to find myself, I started missing Robert and wanted something that would remind me of his presence which is why I decided to paint my little cottage. As I gathered my paint brushes and buckets of paint, I went outside to get some fresh air and think about what I wanted to paint, but I didn’t know these were the last happy memories I would have left in my life.

Running around with my bare feet touching the warm, jade grass is only a reminiscent of what I have left of my past. I can vividly recall the beautiful light pink petals of the large field of flowers that filled the atmosphere with a hint of a sweet, rosy smell. It was a warm, bright spring when I decided to paint my cottage. Everything was great until someone put a beige sack over my head and took my away. I was taken to a pitch-black cell where it was a race to put me away. They wanted me hidden without leaving a single trace of what happened. Everything seemed fuzzy and murky. I felt as if I was trapped from reality. Then I remember I was taken out of the cell with my hands tied together with rope so tightly I felt as if it was cutting off my circulation. I was surrounded by guards who walked like robots. Everyone walked in the same manner and in the same formation. You couldn’t distinguish one from the other.

Entering a grey dungeon, I look around the cold, dusk room I was thrown into. All I can see are bolted metal doors locking me inside this lonely, private island. Light bulbs are shattered on the dirty concrete floor, the lamps are bent, and all of the chairs are broken. It looks like a stampede had destroyed everything it saw in plain sight. On the wall, a lonely window sits there waiting for it to be opened, but it’s almost impossible to crack open as it is bolted shut. As I look outside the window, I long to be outside running around the grass and feeling the sun warm my skin, but I always remember that I’m just an abandoned prisoner inside an empty isolated room. There’s no way for me to escape this cruel reality.

Sitting on the cold floor, I am unwelcomed by my capturer.  His eyes searched the room like a tiger looking for its prey. His eyes were blank and had no life. He had no sense of sympathy nor did he have solidarity. All I saw was a nasty, callous man bringing a thick rope and a roll of duct tape. Barging into my room, he grabs me, tosses me on a chair, and ties me up. I could tell the broken chair had been used by many others before me. I saw marks of stained blood on the chair, multiple scratches, and different colored legs of the chair that were replaced quite frequently from its appearance. I wondered how many other people had been unjustly captured and placed in this awful, dreadful place.

My wrists were taped together as were my ankles. Being stuck on the chair with sticky grey duct tape, I screamed from the top of my lungs, “HEEEELLLPPPP!”, yet no one heard me. It’s as if the world had silenced me forever. While getting my mouth covered by masking tape by my capturer, I gasp for my last breath of air as I know it will be my last one. As I sit unwillingly on the chair, I look at this cruel, evil man and he has no remorse, no sorrow, no love; he is empty inside. He is simply a man with no emotion and no life. As I’m finally finished getting tied to the chair, another person was brought into the room. Her shaking, trembling arms and legs guided her ever so unbalanced step. Her clothes were all torn to shreds as if she was attacked by a lion. She looked like she’d been through a lot. She was pushed to the corner and left there. After the capturer left the room, she remained still with no emotion. I stared at her the whole time I was stuck in the room and she didn’t budge once. She had been so emotionally drained that she was now a robot. She had no soul anymore; it was taken away from her. She didn’t even try to escape or get out of her ropes to help me. Unlike, me, she was left there with her wrists tied while I was tied and taped everywhere and glued to the chair. There was no way for me to leave and I envied her ability and easiness to get out of the ropes and escape. Since I couldn’t talk, I moved my chair to get her attention for her to help me, but she didn’t even care to acknowledge me. She just stayed there isolated in her little corner. What tortured me was the thought of having a way to escape if I had her help. All I’m left to do is sit in this miserable cell and look at grey walls. My capturer came in each day to try to hurt me, but I got used to feeling nothing and expecting the worst out of each day. However, one day he comes in and puts my chair near the only window we have in the cell. I am left to look at the window every day. I am tortured by the beauty of the world outside and how I cannot escape. I am forever trapped in this ancient, dusty dungeon with no contact to humanity.

As I look through the window, I can see in the far distance all of the birds having fun flapping their wings in the rain. Little baby birds nestle in the bird pool splashing water around their brothers and sisters. Butterflies and bees flap their tiny, little flamboyant wings through the peaceful atmosphere outside. Centipedes crawl along the dirt in hopes to find a good-looking leaf to eat. All of these wonderful things make me awe and miss the amazing life I had. All of my friends and family are gone, and I’m here alone with the angst of desperation and wanting to escape this dreadful place in attempt to forget about the horrors I’ve experienced.

As I stare at the dew drops, I try remembering the feeling of rainwater gliding across my hair. I miss the rush of getting my rainboots on and running outside to jump in the puddles of water. Hundreds of dew drops fall onto the window and smear the image of what I saw and remembered. With the few remaining dew drops that are left on the window, I sit and stare at them, but as I look back into my cell, I look much more deeply at the window and I see that the raindrops look like a face crying from desperation, but I soon realize that it is me. I am the prisoner.