Shackled

A lonely silhouette sits in the darkness, awaiting her sentencing. She has been waiting 7690 days to no avail. No one comes to get her, no one comes to see her. Until today. Two armed guards barge into her cell, their presence a jarring contrast to her solitude. They seize her, their hands rough against her skin as she struggles in vain. They manhandle her, their blows raining down upon her frail form as she futilely attempts to shield herself from their aggression. Each strike serves as a reminder that she is powerless against the relentless passage of time. Finally, they reach a looming metallic door; a gateway to an unknown fate. Tearing the shackles from her arms and legs, they shove her through the door. She falls on her knees, defeated, awaiting punishment, but all she hears is laughter. Through tear-blurred eyes, she beholds a scene straight out of a bygone era – a vibrant 50s-style diner bustling with life and joy. It reminds her of a restaurant she once visited in another life with people she can’t remember.

This is her punishment. A cruel twist of fate that is forced upon her; to be in a world full of happiness but never to partake in its warmth. Forced to sit on a cold chair, she watches as life unfolds around her, a silent spectator in a world that has left her behind. Forced to be in the restaurant and face the ghosts of her past.

She has taken her place in the booth and is fixating her stare on the table when the first man walks in. A man that she is all too familiar with– her ex-boyfriend. He was everything to her when she was young; her first love, her first kiss, her first heartbreak. He slides into the booth with the widest grin on his face, grabbing her hands as he praises her changed appearance. Claiming her as his own. He feels entitled to her, his touch invasive and punishing while he chastises her because she will always belong to him and that’s just the way he likes it. He tells her about his new life; his wife, his kids, his happiness– a happiness she would never attain. He steals a kiss, leaving her horrified and disgusted. He leaves out the door but comes back a few times to play with her until she stops cooperating.

Then came the second man, an enigma. A man of an entirely new species. He exudes confidence, his gaze intense as he approaches her. He sits down and begins to talk, pouring his thoughts and dreams onto the table. Never wanting to hear hers, he speaks until there are no words left to be spoken. He is passionate, devout and intelligent. His gaze lingers, piercing and intense, filled with a yearning and longing that speaks volumes. Yet he never touches her, only looks, because he cannot have her. She was unworthy as she didn’t believe in the all-knowing, the all-powerful. She wasn’t special, she wasn’t pure, at least not to him. So he leaves and only comes back when he needs her fire.

The door creaks open, a sound that usually sends a tremor through her. But this time it feels different. A  man walks in and settles into his chair. She lifts her gaze reluctantly to see him – ‘The One’. Time comes to a stand still, the room dissolving into a kaleidoscope of forgotten moments. All that was left is the two of them, gazing into each other’s eyes, staring at the reflection of their souls. He was her beautiful boy. He was everything to her. He still is everything to her. And for the first time, she speaks with a smile painting her face. He listens to her intently while she talks about the girl she used to be, the memories she had forgotten. He holds her hand in his, their fingers entwined. It’s a perfect fit, like their hands were moulded from the same clay, like they were made for each other. She remembers everything: how they ran together, hand in hand, in the city running away from time, how he used to laugh at her jokes, how he used to look at her from across the room and smile. How he held her like she was special, like she meant something. But he couldn’t stay. He leaves just like the others did but he kisses her goodbye – so gently yet so ardently.

“Don’t forget me,” she whispers.

“I won’t,” he vows, his voice a husky murmur. “I promise.”

He lingers by the door, his gaze locked on hers, A silent promise, a shared ache. He watches her from afar until the pain becomes unbearable, until he’s forced to move on. 

She etches his name on her skin as a form of comfort, but it only deepened her ache. A third man enters, affectionately known as the smallest man who ever lived. He tends to the wounds the others left behind, using the ointment of his body, brain and heart. But never his lips, as they were never hers to claim. Yet she belonged to him, a possession to mend and break as he pleases. Despite his affection and care, he takes pleasure in breaking his favourite toys. After healing her, he punishes her for her spirit, for her unwavering passion, believing that a fire, no matter how brilliant, must eventually be extinguished.

The last man to walk in does the worst damage of all. He stands by silently, observing her pain but never intervening. He patiently waits as she suffers, only to hurt her more with his silence, his disapproval, his shame. He’d loved her, and maybe still did in his own twisted way, but he could never bend her to his will, no matter how hard he tried. She looks like her mother now, so she isn’t worth the effort anymore, she isn’t worth loving anymore. He leaves just like all the others, leaving her to bear her burdens alone.

And so she remains a tragic figure in a forgotten diner, watching the men she once loved leave her behind, one by one. Each was a reminder of a past she could never escape,each one adding another link to the chains that bound her. The diner was her prison, and she was its captive, forced to watch as life passed her by, trapped in a world that had long forgotten her.