• "Letting go is probably the hardest thing to do you know..." Those were the last words that her father told her before his firm grip was released from her small hand. Her tiny fingers outstretched desperately for his as a strong arm was wrapped around her middle, forcing her to move from her fixated spot on the ground. Shrill screams echoed throughout the room; cries of his name, cries for help...but mostly for God to listen. The sound of her father's fading footsteps was louder than the most deafening clash of thunder and left an even worse imprint on her fragile mind.

    Ten years later she still hadn't forgotten the look in his eyes or the self satisfaction that his lips had held, and here she was in the exact same spot that he had left her in; seventeen and silent. She hadn't spoken since that day and still pressed her hands to her nose, trying desperately to recreate the scent of his clothing, or the warmth that had once draped her fingers and palm. The small cell was barely big enough for her to lay down completely in any direction, and the only source of light was a small hole about the size of her fist in the upper left corner.

    Dirt and sweat clumped into her hair and her skin would probably forever smell of earth and soot. Long thin scars traced over her back, freshly made and trying to heal. But she knew that the skin would always stay tender, the wounds would always reopen for there was never enough time between lashings for them to heal properly. It was a miracle that she had avoided infection for this long, but that was probably also due to the fact that she was kept in the best physical health possible: were she to die then the pain would stop, and that was the entire reason that she had been put here.

    It's my own fault...not his, never his...That single thought was the only thing that had given her enough drive to stay alive for so long. She could have given up years ago when it would have been easier, but a child's mind is stronger willed than even the stubbornest man, and ten times as hopeful. How hopeful she was to feel his arms wrapped around her, whispering into her musky hair that everything was all right and she had been forgiven. Being allowed to touch him and feel the paternal embrace that she had been denied for a decade now seemed to be only a fleeting dream...