Miranda Kate’s Mid-Week Challenge : Week 273 (2020/12/10)

I closed my eyes, and let my mind piece together what I knew about her. About who and how she was. My mind added together what I knew. The abuse she’d suffered at the hands of her father. The lack of love of her mother. Her mother’s silent ignoring of what her father did.

Her days in school, and in college. The boys she’s been with. The times she’d wanted to say no, but couldn’t because of everything. Her family. Her friends. The trauma she’d been through that no one ever acknowledged.

I wondered when she’d become so damaged, so hurt she’d retreated. She’d hidden. She’d gone somewhere in her mind, her heart, where she couldn’t be hurt. Where she was safe.

And there it was. In my mind. Her. And her fortress. The place where she was safe.

Somewhere, I don’t know where, in the center of a lake, on a small island in that lake, she’d made her castle. Her home. White stone walls, topped with what looked at first like artwork. When I looked closer, I saw that artwork had razor wire embedded in it. No one could climb in.

The only entrance was an iron gate on one side of the fortress.

There were no birds. No trees were visible above the wall. Inside, there was at least one building. And a walkway above the wall, above the gate. Where she could rain arrows on whoever tried to invade.

There was no way I could get in, unless she let me in. No way to reach her unless she let me in. No way to even talk with her, unless she let me in.

It made me wish I could have beat her father senseless. Maybe even castrated him. It made me wish I could have moved her away from her dead inside mother, and taken her somewhere, anywhere else, that would have seen her as a person. A living, breathing, feeling heart and soul. And treated her as such.

It made me wish I’d been there to care for her. To help her. To protect her.

I’m not a knight, you know. I’m not a warrior. Just a normal guy.

I sat there in my little canoe, in my mind, on that lake, and drew a guitar with my mind. In my mind, I pretended I could play it. Maybe not too well. Just the basics. A few chords. And I played those chords, and I sang.

I knew that’s how I could reach her. I knew it was the only way to reach her.

Music.

Music that said I knew she was there. That said I’d never hurt her. Never even touch her unless she wanted me to. Music that said I would be her friend. Music that said I’d kill anyone that hurt her. That I wanted her to be safe. To be happy. To remember how to smile inside. In her heart. In her soul.

I knew it would take time. Maybe more time than either of us had. Maybe I’d run out of time before she unlocked that gate and came outside, got in my canoe, and let me take her anywhere she wanted to go.

But it was okay.

I had time.

I’d start with a post it note on her desk, and a single peppermint, that said something stupid, like, “Thank you.” Or perhaps, “May you have a better day today.”

But it’s what I had to do. I knew that. I had to learn the basic chords on that guitar, and how to sing simple songs. And then sing them. Until she heard me.

With time, maybe I’d leave one of those tiny cakes on her desk for her birthday.

One step at a time. Patience. You can’t heal someone by snapping your fingers. It’s a process.

It’s what I’d always done.

From the time they’d actually made those fortresses, like the one I pictured her in. I knew. I’d made one of those one time myself. A thousand years ago.

It would take time for her to hear the music, and open the gate to her fortress, and come out.

But it was okay.

I had time.

I had nothing but time.

705 words
@mysoulstears

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Written for Week 273 of Miranda Kate‘s Mid-Week Challenge. You can learn about Miranda’s challenge here. The stories people share for the weekly challenge are always little works of art, crafted with words, meant to be shared, and enjoyed. Please go read them.