Captive{ated}

Twenty-One: Rain Drops

We didn't speak too much about your future expectations much after our initial confrontation. I think we had a mutual, unspoken agreement to sweep it under the rug for now, choosing to deal with its harsh reality in the future.

But still, things changed after that.

I found myself in your arms far too often. As the snow melted and gave way to spring, any cold resentment I still felt toward you did the same. That's not to say we didn't argue and have our disagreements, but for lack of a better word, we were a couple.

Now that it was spring, I found myself venturing outside our house often. It was as if other people could sense my newfound acceptance as well. Unlike before, when people would stray from me or try to avoid me altogether, they had conversations with me. It was never anything substantial, normally just talk of being thankful that winter was finally over or how planting was going. Still, such a simple act of kindness on their part made me wonder, was I officially a member of the Village? Now that it seemed that I accepted my life here, did they fully accept me?

The mere thought of it made my stomach churn. I never wanted to be a part of this place, yet here I stood, laughing and talking with its people. What little of my pride and senses remained was disgusted by my actions.

When I could, I walked around the outskirts of the Village on the dirt path that surrounded it. It was hard for me to believe that a place as big as this could be unknown to the world, yet it was. It was startling because lengthwise since it seemed a few miles long, and width wise at least a mile deep. How are they so hidden? How far from civilization were we?

Luckily, the path wasn't well traveled other than the occasional person on lookout, so I didn't have to look too inconspicuous as I tried to learn more about my prison's walls. I was still careful as I surveyed the fence looking for any kind of weakness, any sort of opening. It looked so well maintained, not a single patch of rust. Bushes and trees often grew against it, making it even harder to observe. I never dared to touch it and look at it too closely, however, because if someone saw, I'm sure I would have many privileges taken away from me. I definitely didn't want to risk a sentence in that dark room again. Every time I walked by it in our house, it gave me chills.

Unfortunately, I couldn't spend all my time trying to find a chink in this place's armor. You had your own agenda for me. "I want to show you more about the Village," you told me one evening. "Maybe, you'll find something you like."

There were mornings that you would wake me at dawn to get a head start on the day. I would roll out of bed, only half awake, as I would follow you out the door into the brisk outdoors. I think you were trying to find a place for me in the Village since we did a variety of things. I welcomed the opportunity to work, however, because it distracted me from all my thoughts.

Finding a job that suited me ended up being much harder than we bargained for. You had already learned that I was awful with a needle and thread. Because of this, my options were very limited since women also weren't allowed to build or chop wood. Making clothes is what many did with their time, but that wasn't a choice for me. In town, there was also a family style restaurant that would make food for people to take home, but my cooking was nowhere near on level to help in the kitchen. That left more of the dirty work which I actually didn't mind, but as we came to discover, I wasn't good at much of it either.

First we tried gardening by planting in a small plot just outside our house. You showed me how to till up the land and where to find the supplies, how to space out the seeds and use the tools. Until I tried it, though, I didn't realize there was so much you could do wrong when it came to gardening.

"You're going to hurt your back," you told me when I tried to shovel. You corrected me from behind, changing my hand position. "Use your knees more. The more you bend your back, the more likely you are to strain something."