No part of this story is intended to be taken literally. It's an overly-dramatized commentary on respect.
She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest, one wrist chained loosely to the wall of the enclosure. Four brick walls, a wooden door, a dirt floor, and a roof open to the stars; the small square box was where she spent her days. She sat there staring off into space. Thinking, praying... or both.
She heard a knock on the door of her brick box. "Sorry," she said, "I'm not taking visitors right now." The door opened anyway, and a man walked in. "You must be lonely," he said. After a few seconds, she looked up at him. "No," she said, "I'm not." "Who chained you here?" He wanted to know. She didn't answer. "I can take you away from all this," he offered. She shook her head. "No, this is where I want to be." "I don't believe that for a minute," he said. "You're a woman. I know what women want." She turned away and didn't answer him.
The next night, he showed up again. "I'm back!" he announced cheerfully. "I noticed," she said dryly. "You look sad," he said. "Let me show you a good time. That'll cheer you up!" "I'm only sad because you're here," she said. He grinned. "You're saying what you think you ought to say, not what you want to say. You need to loosen up and live a little. Life isn't about... this." He gestured towards the walls that seemed to contain her. "Maybe yours isn't," she said, "but this is where I need to be right now." "Pfft... we'll see about that." And with that, he left.
The next night, he came back with a pair of bolt cutters. "Don't you dare," she said, glaring at him. "I love you," he said. "Is that why you ignore what I say?" she asked. "No, I just listen to what you mean, not what you say." Her glare got icier. "I assure you, they are the same thing." He cut through the chain. "In spite of all your refusals," he said, "I don't see you putting up much of a fight." "I can't," she said. "I was injured a few weeks ago, and I can't move around much yet." "Well then, you need me all the more! I'll speed your recovery. I can keep you company and make you feel better." "Then why do I always feel worse whenever you come around?" she asked. "Maybe you don't know what love feels like," he said. "And maybe you don't know that love requires respect," she said softly. He pretended not to hear her. In one quick motion, he scooped her up and headed for the door. She squirmed feebly at first, but the second he passed through the door, she stopped. "I knew it!" He said loudly. "You just needed someone to push you out of your comfort zone. Life is about living. You'll see that soon enough." It wasn't until he got her to his house that he realized she was dead.
She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest, one wrist chained loosely to the wall of the enclosure. Four brick walls, a wooden door, a dirt floor, and a roof open to the stars; the small square box was where she spent her days. She sat there staring off into space. Thinking, praying... or both.
She heard a knock on the door of her brick box. "Sorry," she said, "I'm not taking visitors right now." The door opened anyway, and a man walked in. "You must be lonely," he said. After a few seconds, she looked up at him. "No," she said, "I'm not." "Who chained you here?" He wanted to know. She didn't answer. "I can take you away from all this," he offered. She shook her head. "No, this is where I want to be." "I don't believe that for a minute," he said. "You're a woman. I know what women want." She turned away and didn't answer him.
The next night, he showed up again. "I'm back!" he announced cheerfully. "I noticed," she said dryly. "You look sad," he said. "Let me show you a good time. That'll cheer you up!" "I'm only sad because you're here," she said. He grinned. "You're saying what you think you ought to say, not what you want to say. You need to loosen up and live a little. Life isn't about... this." He gestured towards the walls that seemed to contain her. "Maybe yours isn't," she said, "but this is where I need to be right now." "Pfft... we'll see about that." And with that, he left.
The next night, he came back with a pair of bolt cutters. "Don't you dare," she said, glaring at him. "I love you," he said. "Is that why you ignore what I say?" she asked. "No, I just listen to what you mean, not what you say." Her glare got icier. "I assure you, they are the same thing." He cut through the chain. "In spite of all your refusals," he said, "I don't see you putting up much of a fight." "I can't," she said. "I was injured a few weeks ago, and I can't move around much yet." "Well then, you need me all the more! I'll speed your recovery. I can keep you company and make you feel better." "Then why do I always feel worse whenever you come around?" she asked. "Maybe you don't know what love feels like," he said. "And maybe you don't know that love requires respect," she said softly. He pretended not to hear her. In one quick motion, he scooped her up and headed for the door. She squirmed feebly at first, but the second he passed through the door, she stopped. "I knew it!" He said loudly. "You just needed someone to push you out of your comfort zone. Life is about living. You'll see that soon enough." It wasn't until he got her to his house that he realized she was dead.