text: The sun creeps through the crevasses in the foil plastered on the iron-barred windows. The only sound emanating from Talia's labored breathing, she lays in a corner, contracted into a fetus position watching the movement of the dust particles suspended in Brownian motion. A knock on the door alerts her anxious mind and she kneels before the door. The door opens to reveal a man wearing an impassive mask of arrogance, which upon closer inspection can be seen to carry its own air of self-smugness, dressed in greasy overalls, a gun in his right hand, and a plate of baby food in the other. He places his foot on Talias' head, kicks her to the wall with his feet, and places the food near the dog crate kennel situated in a corner of the room where she sleeps. “Eat”. He says and leaves the room. Just as he’s about to leave her room and lock her door, she catches a glimpse of her mother watching her with glistening eyes, until the door is eventually shut. Talia crawls to the plate of food and picks up the food with crooked fingers filled with open gashes and consumes it with tears trickling down her pale squeamish skin. Outside of her room, her mom says “Rob, I think, I mean if we could, you know to let her come outside once in a while, it would be... it could be” ... followed by what sounds like a blow to her head with a heavy object, probably the gun Rob was holding, and incoherent screaming from Rob's end, “You think,” he says snickering, “who are you to think, go get me my dinner you ungrateful bitch”. What initially started as resentment towards her mother turned into empathy. Talia knew that her mother was as much a victim as she was, the only exception being that Talia was beaten a couple of times, while her mother was beaten all the time. Talia crawls back into her little corner, the pain of her bruised body wearing her down and she drifts off into a heavy slumber. Her mind, often the abode of her emotional refuge, also caused her to have scathing nightmares, manifesting all the repressed emotions she harbored, this time being no exception. The nightmare started as it usually did, with her entering into her friend’s house situated in the prairie. Her inhaler in one hand and her car keys in the other, she enters the house, scouting for Cole. She walks with trepidation, foreboding the outcome of the conversation she was about to have with him. “Tals”, a voice calls out from a corner of the house. Following the sound of the voice, her gaze lands upon a pair of gleaming hazel eyes, slightly covered by shaggy brown hair. Cole, she says, almost to herself. This is it, she thought, it's now or never, he deserves to know, she says trying to assure herself that what she was doing was the right thing. She wears her brightest smile, attempting to conceal her nervousness, and heads over to him. “Hey Cole”, she says. “Hey Tals”, Cole says and leans over to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “How have you been?” “Um... fine, I guess... I just have something... I mean... there’s, something I wanted to tell you...” Talia mumbles, almost incoherently. “What is it Tals?” Cole asks, concern tinting his face. “You know you can tell me anything right? I’m here for you, and I always will be. You know, that right?” Cole asks. “Right... of course, I do... It's just, um, the thing is... I was going through my phone yesterday when I got a notification from the period tracker app on my phone that I was three weeks late. And I’ve just been so swamped with school, and work, and the band, that it completely slipped my mind. I took a pregnancy test, and I thought it was silly at the time, cause you know we used protection and everything and it was literally just the one time, but it came back positive, and... and I... I just didn’t, I don’t know what...” Talia drifts off and mumbles inarticulately. Talia puts her head down apprehensive of Coles response until finally looks up again and asks him, “What.... Um, what's going through your mind right now?” His face starts morphing. His eyes pooling with red and black hues. He grows ten feet tall, and towers over her, his arms uncannily long, and his face horrifically resembling her father's. “You what to know what I think, huh? I think you’re a little whore that needs to be taught a lesson for spreading your legs around”. He takes a baseball bat and beats her stomach, the force of which causes her to crumble to the ground and writhe in pain. Talia jolts awake, her arms clutching her stomach, sweat trickling down her face, and a horrible migraine beginning to set in. She wakes up to the smell of burning rubber, only to realize that the walls around her are burning down, the door of her room now in the rubble before her. She groggily attempts to get up and sees her mother beckoning frantically from the living room. “Your father is unconscious in the bedroom, quick get out of the room. I’ve called child services. Get up quickly before your father wakes up”. “Mom, what's going on? Why is the house on fire?” Talia asks in fear. “Your bastard of a father has caused us enough pain, Talia. This ends here. Do you know how long it’s been since you left that room? “3-4 months?” Talia responds unsure of the amount of time that elapsed since every day felt the same, caught in a circle of abuse. “1 year Talia. 1year. This ends now. I’m done catering to his violent impulses. I mixed sleeping pills in the dinner. He’s knocked out cold. I called child services and the police, who should be here any minute”. As she finishes saying this, they hear the sound of the police siren ringing in the distance. “Go Talia. Leave. I’ll find a way to live, you’ve suffered enough”. Talia's mother says through dejected eyes. “Bye mom”, Talia says and rushes to her room to grab the bag she packed multiple times before from when she was planning to run away. She grabs the bag, runs to hug her mom, and says, “I don’t blame you, I love you”, and walks out the door, where she’s whisked away by an ambulance. ........................................................................................................................ “Could you please tell me your name?”, a petite lady in her mid-30’s asks from behind her cat-eye glasses. Talia eyes the child services badge on her chest heaves a breath of reprieve understanding that she’s finally safe and says, “Talia. Talia Evergreen Rosemund”. “How long were you held captive Talia?” Mrs. Denice asks. “For around a year now”. Talia responds. “Could you please tell me what exactly caused this captivity? Why did your father suddenly decide to hold you captive?” Mrs. Denice asks again. “It started when he found a pregnancy test in my room”. Talia begins. “ He thought I was sleeping around and called me a whore. I wasn’t sleeping around; in fact, I’d only ever been with one person. After that, he would come into my room and start beating me up and telling me that I’m going to hell. I decided to have an abortion and somehow, he found out about it and followed me to the clinic. Before I got there, he came in front of my car and dragged me back home, and abused me further. He forced me to carry on with the pregnancy and after I gave birth, he gave the baby up for adoption. I tried running away after the pregnancy and he found out and locked me up for a year and abused me almost every day saying “It's gods will to punish the insolent”. “He locked me in my room and plastered the windows shut so that the neighbors wouldn’t know, and soundproofed my room so that people wouldn’t hear me cry out in pain. I know this might be an extremely insensitive thing to say, but I’m so grateful for the pandemic because it gave me my freedom back. Had it not been for the pandemic, my father wouldn’t have been napping during the afternoon and my mom wouldn’t have been able to slip him sleeping drugs and call you guys. He always comes home late at night and his schedule is always unpredictable, but because of the pandemic, my mother was able to understand where he was at every moment and could plan around it and save me”. Talia finishes erratically attempting to hold onto her resolve. The social worker looks over at Talia with empathetic eyes, reaches out to hold her hand in a gesture of providing solace and assurance, and says, “You’re safe now sweetie. Your safe.” Unable to control the amount of gratitude and relief she felt, Talia jumped up from her seat and clung tightly to the social worker, and spoke “Thank you. Thank you so much”. Talia steps back smiling with gratitude and acknowledges the fact that the pandemic that took away most people’s freedom provided her liberation.