Endless Windows

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Just a shadow, here or there. No matter how hard she tried to clean off the glass, the grime and streaks kept her at a distance from the world outside. The world which he had warned her would break her heart.

"You don't want to see what has happened out there, Persephone. Trust me, please. I will keep you safe." He had promised her.

Keep her safe from what? What secret was he keeping from her? She cleaned the window behind his back every day, hoping to see the truth.

Each morning the window was smudged worse than the day before. She never gave up though. Someday she would see past his stories and warnings, and the bonds he had held her heart and body with.

At night he would whisper sweet promises to her of a bright, new world as long as she clung to him. He would sing sad love songs into her hair and mold himself around her like a sweet prison. At night she didn't want to leave him or see the outside world. She was satisfied in his arms. Being satisfied with his empty promises and lies was far easier than fighting him.

In the morning, however, that momentary satisfaction exploded her heart into tiny shards of longing, smudging the window once again. Try as she might, she could not wipe the pieces of her soul off the murky glass. Suddenly alone and awake in the morning light she realized he was not who he said he was. She was not who he said she was. She was not his. She belonged to herself. This realization was only temporary. It was an endless reel of the same movie that she could not escape.

He fed her with lies and delicacies and quenched her thirst with kisses and red wine the color of blood. She wanted nothing. He clothed her in the finest fashions left over from distant memories and catered to her every need, as long as she remained his.

Still, there was another world somewhere out there, beyond the window, and she would never be satiated until she could see beyond the panes of dirty glass in her dark prison. Finally discouraged in her attempts to wipe the glass clean, she pounded on the glass until her hands were sore. "Someone-- anyone. Please, is there anyone out there?" She pleaded to an empty sky she could not see. An empty sky that could not hear.

She heard his footsteps on the other side of her door and feared being punished for her begging. The door flung open and he stood there watching her with an inscrutable look on his beautiful face. Like an insect under a looking glass, she quivered and waited to be squashed under his indictment.

"Don't you have everything your heart has ever desired, my dear?" He gently inquired, as he took her hands in his, wrapping the rope securely around her wrists. Not this again, she thought. He kissed her face and neck as he brought her to the wall screws and tied her securely. "Be a good girl and you can go free tomorrow." He promised, turning off the light and locking her in.

She cried herself to sleep wondering what had she done to deserve this prison. Although she knew she had done something terrible. How many years had he reminded her that she had destroyed the world outside her window? He couldn't let her back out there to make things worse. She just wanted to see the results of her sins. What had she done? Why wouldn't he tell her?

It came to her in a dream. She could break the glass from the window and see what was out there. What could he do? Tie her up? She was used to that. Starve her? She could do it. Withhold his love? If this prison was love she didn't want it anymore. She slowly worked the ropes which bound her wrists against the screws in the wall. It may take more than one night. She was ready to do whatever it took. She could take her time. How long had he kept her? She had no idea. It was sometime after the world she had known disappeared. There was no way to count the days, the months, the years.

In the morning he came back to her, contrite, kind, gently kissing her face and untying her wrists. He made quiet, stern love to her, forcing her with his will to comply and making her body respond to his insistence, despite her momentary disdain for him. Spent, he went to fetch her breakfast and fed her himself, not trusting her with the utensils.

After he left she went back to the screws in the wall and worked them furiously, hoping to loosen them enough to pry them out before he came back. They were sunk too deeply into the wall studs to loosen by hand. She went back to the window and studied its structure carefully. Anyone brilliant enough to destroy the entire world was certainly capable of dismantling a fragile window, she thought.

The frame was solidly set into the wall with intricate sill and lintel laid flush with the wall, allowing for no instrument to pry them out. The mullioned panes only allowed for a small person to escape through them. Could she fit? Could the grills be bent to allow for escape?

Time meant nothing to her. If it took her ten years, how would she even know? Ten years would disappear in a flash, once she saw what was outside this prison. She had a meaning for life now and it did not include his passionate love-making and empty lies that had ensnared her this long. It had been a prison of her own making. She wondered what he would do if she simply rejected him one time. Would he let her walk free? Into a nightmare world of her own making? Or would he become her worst nightmare, retaliating for her petulance?

That night he came to her, sweet and begging forgiveness for the binding. He made love to her tenderly, igniting her passion, despite her reluctance, and promised to let her out as soon as he was sure it was safe. He gave her hope and she was his once again. Promises were stronger than rope. He had proven this to her time and time again.

"Really? You will take me outside to see the world?" She asked incredulously, seeing a breakthrough in their relationship.

"No, my dear. You cannot leave my home. But, I will let you see outside my window. Perhaps tomorrow. If you're a good girl." He left her alone in the dark once again and she beat her head against the wall, furious with herself for being lulled into submission yet again.

'What is this great need in me to be loved?' she agonized. 'Is the need to be loved greater than the need to be free?'

One must choose to be loved or to be free, she decided. You cannot have both she thought as she leaned her head upon the cold glass of the foggy window. Looking down at the window frame she thought she saw a small glint of broken glass in a corner. She wrapped her finger in her petticoat and carefully picked at the crack until it opened up little by little into a one-inch gap. All night she dug at the glass until her petticoat was torn to shreds and her hands bled. She thought she could see clearly into the moonlit night beyond the window. When the damaged window pane finally caved in under her ministrations, she reached out, hoping to feel the cool night air on her bleeding fingers.

Instead, her fingers found another pane of glass, another murky window set in the wall beyond the first. This was madness, she thought. Am I the threat, or is he the threat?

She could still see no further than she could when the first window was in her way. But she knew she would be punished for this breach in protocol. He was inventive if nothing else. There was no way to disguise her deception. Her petticoat was torn and covered with blood. Her hands were wrecked and the window pane was clearly broken.

He did not come to check on her that day or the next. She continued battering away at the window beyond the window until it caved to her frustration and anger. When she removed the pane from the mullion and the frame she found a similar window beyond the second window.

The outside was no more visible to her than when she began her journey of disobedience. With each new window, the picture became darker and the outside further away. She continued to pound away at the windows, thinking certainly there will be an end to them. One pane, two panes, three panes, four panes, five panes, always leading her no closer to seeing the outside world.

On the third day, he returned from his journey and brought her a feast to make up for the meals she had missed during his absence. He noticed the broken window panes but said nothing. Seeing her battered hands he gently washed them off and wound them in clean dressings, kissing them reverently. Then he brought her to the master bedroom and made love to her as if it meant something to him, professing his undying love to her over and over while stroking her hair and her delicate face.

There was a worn steamer trunk on the floor of the master bedroom and he took forgotten finery from the 17th century out of it and dressed her, caressing her sweetly as he did so. When the trunk was empty of the panniers, corsets, petticoats, and dresses, he guided her, head first, into the trunk and closed the top, locking it with a padlock.

She had learned his secret. Discovered his lies. She could not leave. She believed she had a choice between freedom and love. He believed he was her only choice. He took his foot and shoved the trunk beneath his bed with the others.

He was a busy man. There were windows to repair and women to find. The world had not changed. But, who were they to say?