“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland” - Isaiah 43:18-19
"How long have you been working for Karl?", I asked Rodrigo, my driver, from my backseat. It felt strange to break the quiet with my hoarse voice which had been under-used during the long flight. I could also hear a sense of exhaustion in it, a natural occurrence from the long journey I'd just undertaken, but was too tired to try to hide it. Rodrigo owned the travel agency which had its office within Karl's newest school. Despite being an independent enterprise, it was also half of a mutually beneficial arrangement. Rodrigo had constant work from the steady stream of volunteers and students who came to work and study for a few weeks at a time at Karl's school. He would pick them up from the airport, shuttle them to various sites around the country, and take them back to catch their flights at the end. For Karl- had an on-site local tour agent in Rodrigo- not only an expert in his native land and the tourism field, but also a fellow ambitious small business owner like himself. Karl's customers were excited to be told that there was a friendly and successful tour company right within the school itself.
Rodrigo looked at me in the rear-view mirror, his round, early-thirties face below a completely shaved head. His tanned skin was lighter than that of many people in that country, and I would later find out he was much taller than his countrymen. He stood out- in so many ways, Rodrigo stood out.
Rodrigo looked at me in the rear-view mirror, his round, early-thirties face below a completely shaved head. His tanned skin was lighter than that of many people in that country, and I would later find out he was much taller than his countrymen. He stood out- in so many ways, Rodrigo stood out.
"About... 2 years", he responded with good English in a friendly tone, although his eyes looked on the border of tiredness.
I acknowledged his response, and settled back into my seat, happy with myself at my attempt at small-talk...
I closed my eyes, hoping that Rodrigo wouldn't want to continue the conversation. Back then, I loved car-rides. What I loved was both the quiet of the journey, enclosed in a private cocoon against the noise, the dust, the smoke, the traffic and the elements of the street outside, as well as the lack of expected responsibility on me. I didn't have to do anything, apart from getting lost in my own thoughts and entertaining myself within my own head. So, as Rodrigo drove me from the airport to my new home, I did just that. I watched from behind my eyelids as the light from the passing orange streetlights gradually brightened, faded, and repeated as we drove through the inconsistent traffic...
...I thought back to a few hours previously...
It had taken a long time to calm Eva down. The airport departure lounge had been far from the ideal place for her to confront me with my crimes... But I'd made my bed, and had to live with it. It had been late morning when she'd called me, and from what I could see through the airport's huge windows, it had been grey, cold and dark outside. It never truly rained in that capital city I was passing through... but it was never fully sunny, either. It was in a constant state of overcast, a muggy haze hanging over the port city.
"I'm sorry...", I'd said to her through her sobs and obvious anguish. It was while listening to her express herself that I had realized the true consequences of my sin...
"Hey, you like football, man?", Rodrigo suddenly asked me, looking into the rear view mirror as he slowed down at a pair of red traffic lights. I put my thoughts of Eva on hold to answer him.
"Of course! I mean...", I clarified, "...I WATCH it better than I play it...! You?"
We talked about football, largely from my own country, and were interrupted only as Rodrigo announced: "So, this is the volcano". We were high above the capital city we'd just left- I could see its twinkling yellow and orange glow far below us, beaming out of the blackness of the night that surrounded us. Noting my concerned, quizzical look, he added:
"It's... how do you say...dormant", chuckling to himself at the sudden retrieval of the English word from the back of his mind. "I hope it stays that way!", I said, and we both laughed about it as Rodrigo wound the minivan uphill, one perilous curve after another...
"It's NOT what I wanted to find...", Eva had said, once she'd composed herself a little more.
As Rodrigo maneuvered the minivan down through the highway on the other side of the volcano, I thought back. I remembered how, sitting at that airport departure lounge table, I'd covered my eyes and part of my forehead with my hand at the realization of HOW Eva had discovered my relationship with Francesca. It had struck me from nowhere, from the murky depths of my memory, and a second later, Eva had said it. "The notebook you left me", she had said between her sobs, "You left a letter to her... in the notebook you gave me..."
As Rodrigo maneuvered the minivan down through the highway on the other side of the volcano, I thought back. I remembered how, sitting at that airport departure lounge table, I'd covered my eyes and part of my forehead with my hand at the realization of HOW Eva had discovered my relationship with Francesca. It had struck me from nowhere, from the murky depths of my memory, and a second later, Eva had said it. "The notebook you left me", she had said between her sobs, "You left a letter to her... in the notebook you gave me..."
I hadn't opened that notebook ever since I'd absent-mindedly shoved my draft letters into it upon leaving Francesca's hometown just 9 months before. 9 months later, as I had been packing to come to this new country, I'd chucked out any superfluous items that would only weigh my bag down...
"What about this?", Eva had asked, picking up the sky-blue, shiny notebook that I'd casually tossed onto the bed. I'd looked over my shoulder at her. It had been the last week in December 2010, and the wintry cold in my bedroom on the second floor had meant I'd been impatient to finish up my packing, and get under the bed covers with Eva.
"Oh... you can have that, if you want..."; I'd dismissed it, turning back to my open bag on the floor, to see what else I could jettison for my journey. In retrospect, I suppose I had been lucky that Eva hadn't opened it there and then, and found the draft letters while I was sat right in front of her. If she had, it would have been a full blown argument immediately. It was somewhat of a merciful favour that I'd gotten to deal with it over the phone a couple of days later, rather than having to see her heart break in front of me... a favour given to a coward.
I shuddered at the thought of it all; violently, I thought... but Rodrigo didn't make any indication that he'd noticed, so I made a conscious effort to look out of the minivan windows at the scenery, in order to compliment Rodrigo on his native country. Unfortunately, I could only see the orange illuminated highway ahead of us. Dark clumps of tall trees lined the road.
"What are those slopes for, man?", I asked Rodrigo as we approached the third one. As the highway reached a curve, a smaller, perfectly straight gravel road shot up the mountain, continuing the trajectory that the highway had abandoned.
"In case your breaks fail...", he said, adding "...means you don't fly off a curve!" before I had time to respond. He smiled into the rear-view mirror, and I smiled back, wondering how relevant Rodrigo would be in my new life here.
Eva and I had spoken for over an hour. It had been midday by the time we'd hung up, and still the weather hadn't changed at all. A thick blanket of cloud that was threatening rain. The city had been grey, humid and thick, and I'd just wanted to get on the plane and be rid of it. Just before we'd hung up on each other, Eva and I had agreed to try and work through our problems long distance.
"I still love you..." she'd said, and I'd replied, "Me too. I love you"...
But once I'd hung up, I rubbed my eyes from tiredness, and I could feel the strain in my face. I'd really messed up, I realized. My imagination had then run wild, and I couldn't stop it...
...All I could do was groan as I'd pictured Eva picking up the blue notebook innocently from somewhere that she'd casually left it in her house...
...I'd covered my face with both hands when I'd thought about her inquisitive face as she bent down to pick up the frayed and folded pages from the floor...
... I'd imagined her expression of terror as she'd unfolded a page and read the words "Dear Francesca..." written in my handwriting, at which point I'd let my forehead hit the table in front of me, and I'd lay sprawled in a seated position of shame with my face and arms flat on the surface of the table. People were probably looking over from adjacent tables; it might well have looked like I'd fainted. But I hadn't cared. I'd stayed like that for at least a solid 5 minutes.
I'd tried to be better recently, but my past was hunting me down. It was wearing, and I'd wondered how much longer we'd last...
...All I could do was groan as I'd pictured Eva picking up the blue notebook innocently from somewhere that she'd casually left it in her house...
...I'd covered my face with both hands when I'd thought about her inquisitive face as she bent down to pick up the frayed and folded pages from the floor...
... I'd imagined her expression of terror as she'd unfolded a page and read the words "Dear Francesca..." written in my handwriting, at which point I'd let my forehead hit the table in front of me, and I'd lay sprawled in a seated position of shame with my face and arms flat on the surface of the table. People were probably looking over from adjacent tables; it might well have looked like I'd fainted. But I hadn't cared. I'd stayed like that for at least a solid 5 minutes.
I'd tried to be better recently, but my past was hunting me down. It was wearing, and I'd wondered how much longer we'd last...
Back in the minivan, half asleep and still with my eyes closed, I rubbed my forehead, wondering if the bump I'd allowed my head to suffer a few hours previously had done any superficial or internal damage. But I felt nothing more than a faint, tender bump. Nothing less than I deserved.
The car, which until now had been traversing the smooth tarmac with ease, suddenly began to rumble as we left the highway coming down from the volcano, and entered the town directly below it. Ancient cobble-stones, small and round and uniformly packed together, caused the car to shake and bounce, and I was gradually awoken from the short nap I'd been taking, and found myself gazing out of the windscreen...
The car, which until now had been traversing the smooth tarmac with ease, suddenly began to rumble as we left the highway coming down from the volcano, and entered the town directly below it. Ancient cobble-stones, small and round and uniformly packed together, caused the car to shake and bounce, and I was gradually awoken from the short nap I'd been taking, and found myself gazing out of the windscreen...
"WOW!", I remember exclaiming, probably to the amusement of Rodrigo. Rodrigo's story- a life full of fun, laughs and friendship, but which was tragically cut short- is one I know well... but we will get to that later...
We were descending from about a quarter way up the volcano, which loomed ominously over the city. Shortly afterwards, the car made its way through organized blocks of colonial buildings. The walls with crumbling paint topped with low, slanted slate roofs were beautifully lit up by the orange streetlights. I remember the rumbling most of all on that first trip through the city towards the hostel where I'd be staying for the first week. The car continued to vibrate rhythmically from well aligned but bumpy streets...
I was exhausted as Rodrigo helped me lift my giant backpack from the boot of his minivan onto the pavement outside of the hostel. With a quick and cheerful "See you at the school tomorrow, man!", Rodrigo was gone. I was itching to get to bed to sleep it out, too.
Within 20 minutes, having exchanged courtesies with the hostel's owner, I was finally pushing my bedroom door closed. It clicked shut, and I spun round and collapsed onto my bed, fully clothed. I lay there with the light on, my limbs sprawled, listening to a dog barking somewhere in the distance. After a few minutes spent face down on my bed, I realised a minor jabbing into the lower part of my neck. I wearily rolled over onto my back, lifted up my head slightly while reaching to the back of my neck to unhook the crucifix on a chain that had been sticking into my skin.
Holding it above my face, I watched it dangle, and occasionally I swung it gently and followed its rocking motion with my eyes.
I lay on my back on the bed, my arm in the air, watching the small silver crucifix dangle on the chain in front of my face. As I watched it swing, then dangle, then swing again at the slightest movement of my hand, I thought about how Eva had given it to me a few months before, despite the fact that she'd said she didn't like religious jewelry at all. I thought about Jesus, and went through some of the information I knew about Him. He was about 30 when He started telling people He was the Son of God, and about 33 when He was executed for it. He helped people, and performed miracles . I could remember a few of them- walking on water, changing water into wine, feeding 5000 people... there were others, but my mind drifted, and I finished up wondering what caused someone to allow themselves be killed in such a brutal way in the name of what they believed in...
"Something very profound indeed...", I concluded as I stood up to hang the crucifix from a wooden peg coming out from beside my door that I could see. In the same way as before, I allowed myself to collapse face-first into the bed, causing the springs to creak in a violent jump, before fading out as it got used to its new position under my weight.
So there I was, just lying fully clothed on my hostel room bed in this new and exciting, antique city. I was drowsing to sleep, and trying to review my journey up until that point. I was 23, I had a girlfriend in a now far away country at a distant end of the continent. For nearly 2 years now I had been in this company which had nurtured me and encouraged me to develop my skills as a teacher rapidly and confidently. I'd just been given charge of heading the entire teacher-training course in the company's newest office. It was a big responsibility, and I knew what I was getting myself in for by accepting it. But I believed in Karl's faith in me, and I was excited about starting the first one-month course in a weeks time, in the middle of January 2011.
"Where is this all GOING?", I kept hearing myself ask. But I wasn't stressed about it- it wasn't a question that kept me up at night. "Are you going to stay in this country forever? Or in this continent forever?". Again, I didn't really have an answer. I certainly LIKED that continent, but "forever" was a long time. And considering how fickle I knew myself to be, I wasn't willing to bet my bottom dollar that I'd always live there. "Are you going to keep travelling... forever?". I doubted that. I could see myself settled at some point, maybe before I was 30, but was in no rush to get there, and was certainly not willing to make plans to settle down just yet. I really was just enjoying the ride. I was still young, I was making a life for myself, a career for myself. I wanted to teach, to make enough money to live on and a bit extra, and to use that money to explore the world and to have a good time. For the moment, that was enough of a dream for me. Back then, that was enough to satisfy me.
Within 20 minutes, having exchanged courtesies with the hostel's owner, I was finally pushing my bedroom door closed. It clicked shut, and I spun round and collapsed onto my bed, fully clothed. I lay there with the light on, my limbs sprawled, listening to a dog barking somewhere in the distance. After a few minutes spent face down on my bed, I realised a minor jabbing into the lower part of my neck. I wearily rolled over onto my back, lifted up my head slightly while reaching to the back of my neck to unhook the crucifix on a chain that had been sticking into my skin.
Holding it above my face, I watched it dangle, and occasionally I swung it gently and followed its rocking motion with my eyes.
I lay on my back on the bed, my arm in the air, watching the small silver crucifix dangle on the chain in front of my face. As I watched it swing, then dangle, then swing again at the slightest movement of my hand, I thought about how Eva had given it to me a few months before, despite the fact that she'd said she didn't like religious jewelry at all. I thought about Jesus, and went through some of the information I knew about Him. He was about 30 when He started telling people He was the Son of God, and about 33 when He was executed for it. He helped people, and performed miracles . I could remember a few of them- walking on water, changing water into wine, feeding 5000 people... there were others, but my mind drifted, and I finished up wondering what caused someone to allow themselves be killed in such a brutal way in the name of what they believed in...
"Something very profound indeed...", I concluded as I stood up to hang the crucifix from a wooden peg coming out from beside my door that I could see. In the same way as before, I allowed myself to collapse face-first into the bed, causing the springs to creak in a violent jump, before fading out as it got used to its new position under my weight.
So there I was, just lying fully clothed on my hostel room bed in this new and exciting, antique city. I was drowsing to sleep, and trying to review my journey up until that point. I was 23, I had a girlfriend in a now far away country at a distant end of the continent. For nearly 2 years now I had been in this company which had nurtured me and encouraged me to develop my skills as a teacher rapidly and confidently. I'd just been given charge of heading the entire teacher-training course in the company's newest office. It was a big responsibility, and I knew what I was getting myself in for by accepting it. But I believed in Karl's faith in me, and I was excited about starting the first one-month course in a weeks time, in the middle of January 2011.
"Where is this all GOING?", I kept hearing myself ask. But I wasn't stressed about it- it wasn't a question that kept me up at night. "Are you going to stay in this country forever? Or in this continent forever?". Again, I didn't really have an answer. I certainly LIKED that continent, but "forever" was a long time. And considering how fickle I knew myself to be, I wasn't willing to bet my bottom dollar that I'd always live there. "Are you going to keep travelling... forever?". I doubted that. I could see myself settled at some point, maybe before I was 30, but was in no rush to get there, and was certainly not willing to make plans to settle down just yet. I really was just enjoying the ride. I was still young, I was making a life for myself, a career for myself. I wanted to teach, to make enough money to live on and a bit extra, and to use that money to explore the world and to have a good time. For the moment, that was enough of a dream for me. Back then, that was enough to satisfy me.
"Tomorrow, I'll look around my new home...", I thought to myself, before the blackness of sleep engulfed me.
---
My whole body tensed and I gasped audibly, as I prepared for what I was going to see on the screen. The white static lit up the entire cell, giving it a shimmering snow-filled look where shadows still lurked in corners.
I tried to close my eyes against it, but the night outside was too dark, the light bursting from the screen was too bright, and my eyelids were too thin. I scrunched them tighter, desperate now to see if there was any escaping whatever torture my captor had prepared for me with this blaring television. But even with all my facial defences scrunched up together to create the maximum amount of protection for me, the effect was still minimal, and anyway I knew I wouldn't be able to hold that position forever. My cheek muscles were already aching, and neither the crackling static nor the blazing light had shown any sign of lessening their intensity...
It was just then that I heard a familiar voice, one which made me open my eyes and stare straight in front of me...
-
I watched an entire episode of one of my favourite sitcoms from my youth, even though I'd seen it so many times I could quote it almost word for word...
... after that, I watched a 15 minute video called "The Best Bits Only 90's kids will remember"...
... Next, I watched an episode of a panel show that I only really found semi-funny...
... I watched a sketch show that was suggested to me, while trying to suppress the ever more frequent yawns that were coming in waves upon me...
... I watched another episode of it...
... Despite yawning and feeling tired, I went back and re-watched my favourite parts to the first episode...
... I watched a spoof song...
... I watched it again, and then a third time, and tried to learn some of the words...
... I let my eyelids droop and I allowed myself to yawn openly as I watched an entire comedy stand-up routine from my all time favourite comedian...
... I assume I fell asleep with the T.V. blaring and shouting and laughing and shining at me...
-
"Why did you put that thing in here?", I asked her patiently but firmly as she sat at the table in front of me. The T.V. was off by now, and it was the darkest part of the night. My captor had her phone in her left hand, tapping her thumb rapidly on apparently arbitrary places on the screen, her long and perfectly groomed thumb nail creating a plastic tap tap tap. Her right hand was behind her silky chestnut hair, stroking the back of her own head, and she was chewing gum with her lips parted a hint. Hardly blinking, she continued to stare at the phone screen, and it shone back at her with a ghostly glare. The corners of her mouth crept upwards into a smile. Not an entirely sweet one- one which had a touch of malice behind it. She smiled, showing her perfect white teeth between those ruby red lips. She continued chewing her gum, aware that I was watching her, and not feeling it necessary to look up at me...
"You didn't HAVE to watch it...", she informed me, her eyes not moving from the screen. I knew what she was doing by making me watch her ignore me. She was fulfilling the desire she had to inflate her ego by having me pay attention to her, despite the fact that she treated me so horrifically. The worst part, which we were both aware of, was that it was working. I continued to look at her, and wonder how someone so beautiful to look at could treat someone, ANYONE, like this...
"I wonder if I can convince her to treat me better...?" I heard from within...
"You WANTED to watch it", she interrupted my thoughts before I had enough time to ponder that recurring question. I didn't answer. She clicked a button on the side of her phone, and the light from her face evaporated. She put the phone face down on the table in front of her, and sat back in her chair, with her faintly tanned arms crossed. She shrugged. "You just prefer watching videos to doing other things. That's YOUR problem- not mine".
I stared back at her, chewing her gum. Her eyes narrowed. "You watch a lot of T.V., don't you...?", she asked rhetorically. Shaking her arm to make her watch jump further down her wrist towards her hand, she looked down at it once it had reached its destination. With an exaggerated surprised look, she checked the time, and her eyes flicked back to me at the moment that she said, "You were watching for four hours! Why don't you get out more???". She asked it mockingly, but the narrowing of my eyes at her cruel comment made her chuckle to herself. She leant her head back so that her neck was exposed, and I ventured a look at her tightly kept breasts...
Her head shot forwards again suddenly, almost instantly, and with her chin down, she smiled at me and looked at me seductively from deep below her eyebrows.
"You PRETEND that you don't like watching your videos... but YOU were the one who requested the T.V., remember?". She paused for a second, waiting to see if I'd respond with an excuse or a comeback. Unavoidably, though, I looked away with shame, and mentally cursed myself for doing so, because it had been a sign that I knew she was right. I guess she smiled at that, and then she continued her assault:
"'Just one more'. Isn't that always the way, though? 'Just one more episode'. 'Just one more clip'. 'Just one more hour...'". She stood up, letting the wooden chair she'd been sitting on scrape against the stones with a horrific and intrusive screech that I winced at. She left it where it had stopped, her eyes fixed on me, and strode round the table between us to come right up to me; her favourite way of mentally torturing me, I'd discovered. I quickly moved my face as far away from her as I could, but the chains that had me bound to the wall would only let me get so far, and she followed me so that her mouth was only a couple of centimeters from my left hear. I waited, breathing heavily in case today was one of the days when she'd lose her patience at me for an unspecified reason. If that were to be so, I was seconds away from being attacked, helpless to resist in my chains attaching all four of my limbs to the solid stone wall behind me.
With only soft moonlight helping my still adjusting eyes, I couldn't see the details of her face, but I could have sworn I heard her laugh, barely audibly, at my reaction. I winced and breathed in sharply as I felt her ice-cold hand touch my right cheek, as she gently pushed my head towards her, so that my left ear was less than a millimeter from her lips...
"You can't help yourself, can you? You're too undisciplined. You WANT to be more productive..."... she paused, taking my chin in her hand and using it to move my head so that she was looking directly into my eyes. "...but my temptations are just too strong for you to resist, aren't they?".
I still couldn't see her clearly, even though my eyes had become used to the darkness and I could make out her silhouette and details I knew must be there. But I could feel her warm breath pass my nose and lips and with each syllable. I waited.
"It doesn't matter, anyway" she whispered, almost sympathetically. "You should be allowed to do what you like. It's YOUR life. Let yourself be entertained..."...
"I just... I work so hard in this life...", I sputtered out, very aware that I was on the verge of sounding whiny...
"I know you do...", she whispered back. I could feel her gently stroking my cheek with the palm of her hand...
I continued: "And... in my free time... I just want to relax a bit..."
"I'M not judging you!", she whispered again. I could feel her pressing up against me, and caressing my cheek with her right palm, while her left hand wound its way round the small of my back, and settled casually on my right hip. "In here, you can watch whatever you like, for as long as you like. Out there, they'll call it "binge watching". They'll tell you you can't waste hours every day watching videos. They'll tell you that you have to practice moderation". She paused as I nodded gently in agreement. "But in here, I make the rules. And I say that you can watch what you like, when you like, for AS LONG as you like, OK? I don't expect anything from you. You don't have to work in here; you can do what you like. But you must stay in here, OK?" I nodded again.
Seeing that I had complied, she concluded. "Good. Now...", she asked, in a nurturing, mothering tone, "What would you like to do?"
I could hear her smile and then giggle in triumph as I said "I'd like to watch another video...
...just one more..."
---
My whole body tensed and I gasped audibly, as I prepared for what I was going to see on the screen. The white static lit up the entire cell, giving it a shimmering snow-filled look where shadows still lurked in corners.
I tried to close my eyes against it, but the night outside was too dark, the light bursting from the screen was too bright, and my eyelids were too thin. I scrunched them tighter, desperate now to see if there was any escaping whatever torture my captor had prepared for me with this blaring television. But even with all my facial defences scrunched up together to create the maximum amount of protection for me, the effect was still minimal, and anyway I knew I wouldn't be able to hold that position forever. My cheek muscles were already aching, and neither the crackling static nor the blazing light had shown any sign of lessening their intensity...
It was just then that I heard a familiar voice, one which made me open my eyes and stare straight in front of me...
-
I watched an entire episode of one of my favourite sitcoms from my youth, even though I'd seen it so many times I could quote it almost word for word...
... after that, I watched a 15 minute video called "The Best Bits Only 90's kids will remember"...
... Next, I watched an episode of a panel show that I only really found semi-funny...
... I watched a sketch show that was suggested to me, while trying to suppress the ever more frequent yawns that were coming in waves upon me...
... I watched another episode of it...
... Despite yawning and feeling tired, I went back and re-watched my favourite parts to the first episode...
... I watched a spoof song...
... I watched it again, and then a third time, and tried to learn some of the words...
... I let my eyelids droop and I allowed myself to yawn openly as I watched an entire comedy stand-up routine from my all time favourite comedian...
... I assume I fell asleep with the T.V. blaring and shouting and laughing and shining at me...
-
"Why did you put that thing in here?", I asked her patiently but firmly as she sat at the table in front of me. The T.V. was off by now, and it was the darkest part of the night. My captor had her phone in her left hand, tapping her thumb rapidly on apparently arbitrary places on the screen, her long and perfectly groomed thumb nail creating a plastic tap tap tap. Her right hand was behind her silky chestnut hair, stroking the back of her own head, and she was chewing gum with her lips parted a hint. Hardly blinking, she continued to stare at the phone screen, and it shone back at her with a ghostly glare. The corners of her mouth crept upwards into a smile. Not an entirely sweet one- one which had a touch of malice behind it. She smiled, showing her perfect white teeth between those ruby red lips. She continued chewing her gum, aware that I was watching her, and not feeling it necessary to look up at me...
"You didn't HAVE to watch it...", she informed me, her eyes not moving from the screen. I knew what she was doing by making me watch her ignore me. She was fulfilling the desire she had to inflate her ego by having me pay attention to her, despite the fact that she treated me so horrifically. The worst part, which we were both aware of, was that it was working. I continued to look at her, and wonder how someone so beautiful to look at could treat someone, ANYONE, like this...
"I wonder if I can convince her to treat me better...?" I heard from within...
"You WANTED to watch it", she interrupted my thoughts before I had enough time to ponder that recurring question. I didn't answer. She clicked a button on the side of her phone, and the light from her face evaporated. She put the phone face down on the table in front of her, and sat back in her chair, with her faintly tanned arms crossed. She shrugged. "You just prefer watching videos to doing other things. That's YOUR problem- not mine".
I stared back at her, chewing her gum. Her eyes narrowed. "You watch a lot of T.V., don't you...?", she asked rhetorically. Shaking her arm to make her watch jump further down her wrist towards her hand, she looked down at it once it had reached its destination. With an exaggerated surprised look, she checked the time, and her eyes flicked back to me at the moment that she said, "You were watching for four hours! Why don't you get out more???". She asked it mockingly, but the narrowing of my eyes at her cruel comment made her chuckle to herself. She leant her head back so that her neck was exposed, and I ventured a look at her tightly kept breasts...
Her head shot forwards again suddenly, almost instantly, and with her chin down, she smiled at me and looked at me seductively from deep below her eyebrows.
"You PRETEND that you don't like watching your videos... but YOU were the one who requested the T.V., remember?". She paused for a second, waiting to see if I'd respond with an excuse or a comeback. Unavoidably, though, I looked away with shame, and mentally cursed myself for doing so, because it had been a sign that I knew she was right. I guess she smiled at that, and then she continued her assault:
"'Just one more'. Isn't that always the way, though? 'Just one more episode'. 'Just one more clip'. 'Just one more hour...'". She stood up, letting the wooden chair she'd been sitting on scrape against the stones with a horrific and intrusive screech that I winced at. She left it where it had stopped, her eyes fixed on me, and strode round the table between us to come right up to me; her favourite way of mentally torturing me, I'd discovered. I quickly moved my face as far away from her as I could, but the chains that had me bound to the wall would only let me get so far, and she followed me so that her mouth was only a couple of centimeters from my left hear. I waited, breathing heavily in case today was one of the days when she'd lose her patience at me for an unspecified reason. If that were to be so, I was seconds away from being attacked, helpless to resist in my chains attaching all four of my limbs to the solid stone wall behind me.
With only soft moonlight helping my still adjusting eyes, I couldn't see the details of her face, but I could have sworn I heard her laugh, barely audibly, at my reaction. I winced and breathed in sharply as I felt her ice-cold hand touch my right cheek, as she gently pushed my head towards her, so that my left ear was less than a millimeter from her lips...
"You can't help yourself, can you? You're too undisciplined. You WANT to be more productive..."... she paused, taking my chin in her hand and using it to move my head so that she was looking directly into my eyes. "...but my temptations are just too strong for you to resist, aren't they?".
I still couldn't see her clearly, even though my eyes had become used to the darkness and I could make out her silhouette and details I knew must be there. But I could feel her warm breath pass my nose and lips and with each syllable. I waited.
"It doesn't matter, anyway" she whispered, almost sympathetically. "You should be allowed to do what you like. It's YOUR life. Let yourself be entertained..."...
"I just... I work so hard in this life...", I sputtered out, very aware that I was on the verge of sounding whiny...
"I know you do...", she whispered back. I could feel her gently stroking my cheek with the palm of her hand...
I continued: "And... in my free time... I just want to relax a bit..."
"I'M not judging you!", she whispered again. I could feel her pressing up against me, and caressing my cheek with her right palm, while her left hand wound its way round the small of my back, and settled casually on my right hip. "In here, you can watch whatever you like, for as long as you like. Out there, they'll call it "binge watching". They'll tell you you can't waste hours every day watching videos. They'll tell you that you have to practice moderation". She paused as I nodded gently in agreement. "But in here, I make the rules. And I say that you can watch what you like, when you like, for AS LONG as you like, OK? I don't expect anything from you. You don't have to work in here; you can do what you like. But you must stay in here, OK?" I nodded again.
Seeing that I had complied, she concluded. "Good. Now...", she asked, in a nurturing, mothering tone, "What would you like to do?"
I could hear her smile and then giggle in triumph as I said "I'd like to watch another video...
...just one more..."
