'CHIMERA' Chapter One Book One

'CHIMERA' Chapter One: The Silent Treatment

As I washed, the sounds of movement continued while my guards went about their tasks, not conversing with one another. The lesson had been impressed upon me long ago that attempting to speak with anyone was futile. I was allowed outside time in a walled courtyard daily and once when I'd still had a hope of escape, I risked a peek over the edge of the wall. As punishment for my brief glimpse of the barren surroundings beyond the stucco-covered brick, I had been bound, blindfolded, and left chained to a stake for what seemed like days until my skin felt burned to a crisp and I thought they might finally let me die.

From that day forward I had decided to use my mind as a refuge. They couldn't control my thoughts or my soul, only my environment, and it was safer for them to think me a beaten down creature incapable of independent wants.

When I stepped out of the shower, I spotted underwear and a linen shift with loose drawstring pants draped over the metal wall mounted sink. No mirror hung over the sink for me to check my appearance. In fact, my jailers made sure I never had access to any reflective surface whatsoever. Most likely it was just another deprivation designed to wear down the state of my mental health. Maybe they were afraid I would start to have a stronger sense of self?

My bladder reminded me I hadn't yet used the facilities. I tried to ignore my silent audience. Thing One entered the cramped bathroom to hold out a towel with a plastic wrapped square. An instruction card stated how to use the feminine hygiene product. I took it without direct eye contact. I was leerier of Thing One. He enjoyed my punishments the most. Many days I had lain on my thin, lumpy mattress staring at the cracked ceiling, dreaming of ways to take revenge. That is until I realized the pointless exercise only made me feel less powerful.

I'd instinctively known growing up my childhood wasn't the norm. We'd moved often, and my parents used different names every place we settled. They made a game of it so I could remember what alias to use. I wasn't allowed to play outside unless both my parents were with me. Even then it was only at parks in other neighborhoods, resulting in the most superficial contact with children my age. The furtive life we lived went unexplained. My parents took their secrets to the grave.

Over the years, the days ran together. I lost the clear visualization of my parents' faces. What I could recall of my childhood seemed happy. Every day was a gift, and my parents loved me. The one and only time I witnessed them argue was on the day of their death. That memory had also faded like so many others into a vague recollection that hovered on the edge of knowing, tantalizingly out of reach.

Once I dressed, I walked back into my ten-by-ten all-too-familiar cell to find that my guards had already gone.

Thing Two had remade the cot with the standard stiff white fitted sheets. I sat at the table where I ate every meal. The food given for breakfast, lunch, and dinner wasn't bad, only blandly repetitive and served like clockwork. The time on the digital display read 6:15 a.m. Breakfast would be late today.

Only it never came.

I shifted restlessly on my seat, unaccustomed to the feeling of the bulky pad in between my legs although it did provide a cushion on the hard metal chair. Worry at the change in my routine wiggled like a worm at the back of my brain. Around here any variation from the norm could mean something bad coming my way. My inner voice expressed an aversion to worry since it served no purpose.

As I often did in my 'free time', I retreated to the comfort of my mind, relaxing my shoulders and breathing deeply. My fingers ran in soothing circles on the table's slick metal surface until I no longer focused on the physical world, but dreamed. My imagination had always been a lively companion, even as a child. Here it had taken on a life of its own becoming the key to maintaining my sanity. I made up stories, wrote poetry, thought through mathematical theory, or sometimes just imagined places, all in vivid life-like Technicolor. Immediately I noticed a change in my alternate private world. No longer did it feel empty and eager to be filled by my personal imaginings.