Trapped

Chapter 1 (Part 1)

It was dark in the closet. I sat there quivering between all the hanged old dresses, searching for warmth. Soon, my mind began to roam, looking for something to distract my body from this painfully chilly weather. I grabbed my journal which was hidden underneath some clothes, and began to ponder of what could happen if I were to just run away. I didn't know how to write too well back then, because my parents dropped me out of school when I turned 7 and a half; they had this idea that girls just aren't supposed to go to school, but still I recalled a few things from what I learned. I started  writing about how I felt as though I was constantly in a powerless state, with no say over my life. Like I was a video game character being controlled by players, following their every instruction. Though, I had my own opinions, likes and dislikes, goals and ambitions, all of them proved to be utterly useless. With no ability to speak my mind, and have what I wanted be respected, I started hating my existence; I felt as though I no longer wanted to be able to think anymore. But would you blame me for wanting to end it all? When in fact, I was getting scolded, and sometimes locked inside of my closet, for merely having such thoughts.

During my lonesome time in my bedroom, I've come to realize more about myself, and how things cannot be changed, so I knew I had to. My thoughts were later interrupted by a knock at the door, so I quickly hid my journal and got myself out of the closet. Mom walked in followed by dad, I'm not too sure why she knocks, after all the door is locked from the other side. She held my face in her velvet smooth hand and began to examine it.

"Sweetie, why do you look so troubled? Wipe that expression off your face. We certainly don't want the guests thinking you're depressed." Mom stated anxiously, she then added. "How do you expect to have anyone ask for your hand in marriage with you looking like this? You do know that I got married to your father when I was your age, so you must follow your family's tradition." "But I- I don't..." I hesitated to proceed knowing it wouldn't have wound up well, if anything I would have just ended up with longer punishment and more bruises. However, I really didn't want to get married, men in my village were known for their abusive tendencies. Sometimes I would think to myself, that surely it couldn't have been worse than what I already went through, but still, I didn't want to have kids; I was approximately 10 years old at the time. I began to panic as I was starting to notice my parents' expressions change, with a shift in their mood. I then proceeded. "May I go use the restroom, please?" "No." Dad threw newspapers at me, then continued. "Use these." Afterwards they both exited my bedroom and locked the door. "Get ready, Rose, the guests will be here soon." Mom's eagerness was noticeable, even from the other side of the room.

I stared at the newspapers for a short while, then gazed upon my reflection from the mirror. I knew it wasn't fair, we had two bathrooms upstairs surely, I could have gone to one of them, yet I did nothing to defend myself. I headed towards my closet, then unlocked it. A faded pink cotton dress caught my attention, so I cautiously pulled it out of the closet, and examined it. It was in pretty good shape, however, there was a miniature slit at the end of it. With the little time left in my hands, I speeded my way towards the bed stand, then drew out the needle and fabric to fix it. Afterwards, I put it on, its warmth was enveloping my body. I liked the feeling; it wasn't as cold as usual.

"Are you ready, dear?" Asked mom. Without giving me the chance to enjoy these few seconds of peace, she unlocked the door, grasped my arm, and pulled me out into the kitchen.

"Make something nice for the guests. They need to know you can cook, to consider having you as their own." Mother stated.

She looked at me with a hint of sorrow in her eyes. She then added "I don't know what we would do if no man proposed to you soon, dear. We cannot afford to raise you anymore, besides you know how your father is, he will not hesitate to throw you into these merciless streets." She was staring out the window, into our neighborhood with an unreadable sort of blank expression that I never understood.

 I took a second to fathom her words, and nodded after. I wondered if it really was my dad that didn't want me, he was not much of a talker. Sometimes, it seemed as though he didn't even have any thoughts at all. Realizing I had to make something for the guests before their arrival, I hurried around the kitchen, checking the cabinets to see what was available and what was not. There were plenty of apples, butter, brown sugar, flour, and cinnamon. Hmm... Oh I know what to make, apple pie! I said to myself, feeling almost satisfied. I enjoyed cooking; it reminded me of a time when my mom and I used to cook together, which somehow made me feel that maybe everything was going to be okay. Mom taught me that when you cook, it's all under your control, and if you do it all the proper way, then what could possibly go wrong?

I commenced making the pie, and despite not having enough of the ingredients needed to make one, I somehow managed to work something out. Then, I walked into the dining room, and to my surprise everyone was already there, seated, with a slightly annoyed expression that told me they have been waiting for a while.

Hello, reader!

That was the end of the first part of chapter 1. I'm currently working on the second part, and I wanted to let you know that I'm a student  whom unfortunately has lots of exams coming up *cries in high school student* point is I'm not too sure when the second part is coming out. However, I would genuinely appreciate your feedback! It would really help motivate me into finishing the second part. Take care, love :) <3