The Little Girl Who Thinks Differently

Let me tell you a story. A story about the little girl, who thinks so much differently from everyone else.

She sat alone shivering, her clothes gone and forbidden. She looked about the unfamiliar place, unable to gather any comfort from it’s distant atmosphere. She looked down at her feet. the unforgiving material pressed into her flesh, causing her toes to tingle and eventually go cold and numb. How dare she think of removing the wreched shoes that bit into her tender feet. She would not remove them. Could not remove them. Her body screamed at her to rip them away, but her mind forbid her. She knew had she removed them, she would not be use to them enough to perfrom without wobbling all over the place. And a wobble would cost her, her flesh.

She sat and waited, as it was only a bit past noon. Still hours to go. Trying to remove her mind from the coldness in her feet, she pulled paper from her bag and decided to draw. As her marker flowed across her page, her mind stayed still on her feet. They were cramping, but that is what happens when you are learning to wear material that bites. Finishing her drawing she dedicates it to Him, the captor of the night.

Her captor instructs her to prepare. She inserts the rubber red ball into her mouth, pulling its straps tight. The straps pull the ball so far back, it makes it hard to breath. How dare she think about leaving it a bit loose. She would not loosen it. Could not loosen it. Her body screamed at her to rip it away, but her mind forbid her. She knew had she left it loose, she would be able to grip the ball tight enough between her teeth. And a loose grip would cost her, her flesh.

She forced herself to breathe through her nose. It was difficult, but she could do it, and she could do it without struggling too much.

She removed her glasses, her body tensing without them. Without her glasses she could not see, she would have to go from wall to wall, to make sure she did not fall in this unfamiliar place. She picked up the blindfold and stood. Her cold and numb feet screamed at her. She made her way to the bedroom. To the corner. She gave a loud whimper as she placed the clothes pins on her already bruised nipples. Placing the blindfold over her eyes, she tied it tight. She could not open her eyes if she wanted to. And there she stood.

He had told her he would be home by three. She had about four minutes to wait. There she stood for four minutes…five…six…seven…eight… She was losing track of time. Her mind told her it only felt longer than it was, with those bitting shoes and the asphyxiating ball, and the blindfold that left her in the dark. Her legs began to shake. She could not stop the shaking. How dare she think about sitting down. She would not sit. Could not sit. Her body screamed at her to sit down where she was, but her mind forbid her. She knew had she sat down, she would not be able to stand in time, before He returned home. And a sitting slave girl would cost her, her flesh.

Tears began to fall under the blindfold. A knot formed in the pit of her stomach and a lump began to swell in her throat. This was too much. She was not sure she could take it much longer, but she knew she had no choice but to stand there in her suffering. It had to be three, if not later. Where was He? She tilted her head up towards the ceiling, no longer able to control her sobs. She cried out around the ball. Where was he? He said He would be here. He lied. He needs to be here to set her free. To release her. He wasn’t coming. She was helpless, and losing hope. Her sobs became louder. She was getting angry. But her anger was only a mask of her fear.