jJoin email list:

splinterswerve
Calgary, Alberta, Canada
splinterswerve.hotmail.com

---

by Michelle Bodnar

He told me he loved me then he locked me in a room for thirty days and thirty nights, bringing me food and minor entertainment and I thought I was happy, but the room kept getting smaller and smaller until I was cramped in a ball, crushed in the fetal position, my knees touching my chin. When he finally let me out I couldn't straighten out and had to crawl along behind him. He always walked too fast. People would ask me how I was and I would say, "I'm fine, thank you, how are you?" They would say fine and I would keep crawling and usually smiling, thinking of ways to keep being fine. My knees got sore and I wore holes in my pants, so I took them off and kept going, ignoring the cool wind and people's stares. My hands and wrists got sore, too, so I would use my elbows, which of course wore out my shirt so I eventually had to take that off, too. When my back started to ache, which it did a lot, I would roll over and lie flat for awhile, staring straight up and trying to breathe slower. I started losing parts of my body that had slowly eroded from the rough pavement…my legs were the first to go, then my arms and finally my head because my neck was too tired from looking up, looking up all the time. Then I couldn't crawl anymore and he told me he hated me because I was too slow and too worn out and then he just left me behind to be made practical use of.