MY LAIR has been shrinking for weeks. The walls are closing in, constricting the life out of me.
God knows how hard I’ve tried to escape. The scratches on my palm from pushing back the concrete and the bruises on my arm from trying to break down walls are testaments to my attempts.
They keep pushing me further into dark and hopeless spaces. A heavy, invisible force covers my mouth during my pleas, forcing silence.
It began in darkness, where I would wake to the ceiling being inches away from my face. I passed it off as a nightmare, only for it to repeatedly happen.
Nobody believed me.
That’s when the shrinking began. The next thing I knew, they started locking me in, too. The walls grew closer to my body.
Long gone are the days when I could look out at the world and let my words tangle with the restless atmosphere.
There are small specks of light seeping within. I squeeze myself between the crevices, forcing them to open, as I gasp for air.
I rush to fight the weight obstructing the little life I carry. A breeze, as gentle as it is, manages to puncture through.
After weeks of suffocating, I relish in the feeling of breathing, of sighing in relief for reclaiming what I thought had long been stolen by those from above.
My lair tries to retreat to its original state as sunlight seeps through the narrow openings.
I grip onto rugged surfaces, shaking as I break out into a cry. Once the world knows of their acts, I pray that I haven’t been silenced yet. F – Bettina Katryn Reyes
