Just Waiting...
As the morning slowly dawns and the sun begins to beam through the light boxes on the top of my modest cell, the periphery of my bed begins to glow. Around the edge of the jail grounds the golden and red leaves begin to whistle in the autumn wind like the sound of a child's toy, whilst the sound of a lash being whipped echoes through the passages of the Borderline cult as if it were a stuck record. I rose to the distant yelps of young women who were being lashed awake. This often killed me inside... Kill, My mind shrivels up and withers away to a crackled bleeding nothingness as it dawned on me that today was my last day. Before any further thoughts could cross my mind the door burst open abruptly and I am dragged by my dirty clothes.
The floor of the execution room is cold and bleak, with cracks dividing and subdividing like the contours of a convoluted road map. I rocked on my heels whilst taking in the scent of the room, which smelled of burnt flesh and a hint of innocence after the previous women who was unfortunate enough to get the electric chair. The walls were off-white, maybe because of all the screams that they have absorbed, the deaths that they have observed, the odours that they have touched and the last dreadful moments of many young, untainted women that it withheld. A fly buzzed around the room anxiously waiting for an escape. It yearned for the freedom, fresh air and sunlight, just like me. At least it had a possible future… I didn’t.
Anna Montez stood at the door. She avoided my gaze. She too was waiting, just waiting for another job opportunity where guilt wouldn’t be gnawing on her conscience day after the day. The dark circles under her puffy eyes exposed her sleep deprivation and the soft sobs, which she expressed in isolation every night. They were often overpowered in the darkness by the agonizing screeches, which replayed and echoed in her idle mind. Those grisly sounds belonged to the women that she dealt with that day who were robbed of their lives for simply fighting for what they deserved.
I approached the rope gracefully, despising myself for walking to my death without much difficulty. They harnessed me up to the dirty rope, stained with the old blood, dead skin, sweat and tears of other women who were forced to leave the little world that they knew without being remembered. Yes, I was one of those women with a scanty voice who tried to make an immense difference. Women are only to bear children and slave to the needs and desires of men. Who was I to doubt the way that my life was supposed to be? I was summoned to satisfy man in this cult and I went against him instead. Now they have to dispose of me before any further inconvenience is brought upon them.
The floor falls below me and my bruised legs dangle in mid-air. The rope saws through my neck like a blunt knife as the hook above me creeks eerily with my weight. My hands are grasping my neck and my body twists and turns vigorously as I defy gravity. Pain was my friend, my distraction and my escape for so many years but now it was too overwhelming. My vision is blurred as warm tears gently stroke my cheeks.
Anna’s eyes shifted from the floor to me. I recognized the desperation, the desolation and the guilt in her marble-like blue eyes. She resembles someone who I know so well, and that person was me. Anna mouthed something but I was too intrigued by her striking beauty and the light that was shining from her to notice what it was. I blinked one last time as I succumbed to the dizziness that took my head by storm. As I closed my eyes forever and my limp hands fell to my sides, I realized that the words that escaped from Anna’s quivering lips were… “Forgive me”.
Anna Montez was an angel who had come to salvage me from the vile circumstances of this faction. God had granted me freedom from this world. Heaven is a better place, and I shall watch from above and wait for the day when Anna would finally speak up and play her role in the battle for freedom and equality. Anna would wait for the day where she finally had the courage and bravery to walk out. The women of the cult would wait for the day when they could finally be the playmakers of their own lives. The fly waited to escape this dull room so that she could fly away and start a new cycle of life. This was the unpredictable cycle of just waiting, waiting to be heard and waiting to be noticed, just waiting to be released. Waiting for our dreams to come true, for our prayers to be answered, for this world to change. Waiting for a better day still to come.
