Hello, guys! First of all, I keep getting locked out of my accounts, but I'm here, and I'm starting a brand new story. All I'm going to say is that Mal deserves a hug after all of this stuff I have planned for him. But that's fine, and I think you'll be fine with it as well. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!
~Ry
I sit here in the dark. I hate the dark. It used to be my friend, but now, it's the thing that I've been battling the most in this cell. They've locked me in here to make sure that I didn't do any harm to them. They have the key, and they haven't even visited. It's been 3 years, and I'm now 20. I'm 20 years old and I'm trapped within my own body.
But today, it is different. I hear something. That's a sign, seeing as though I haven't heard anything in a while. I stop leaning on the cold wall, and I stare straight ahead. I stay silent. Maybe it's one of them. I find myself crawling – not walking crawling – to the front of the cell. I use my left hand to feel for the bars that trap me in this horrid place.
It is footsteps I hear, and they're coming closer to me. I can almost taste freedom. Sweet, sweet freedom is beckoning to me. I want to be liberated. A tear falls down my cheek and I taste the saltiness on my lower lip. "H-Help," I blurt out in a shout. "I-I-I apologize." The footsteps get closer together, as though they are rushing towards me, and I feel an emotion of hope wash over me.
Suddenly, this blinding light comes on, and it stabs my eyes. The pain is searing, and I wonder what is going on. I find myself perplexed. It takes my eyes a while to adjust, and when they do, I look up and see my mother. I look a lot like her: large brown eyes that express any emotion clearly, her graceful figure (yet for a male, that can get quite embarrassing to have), and sometimes, her thick accent. She's staring back at me, and she looks like she has some regret inside of her. "Mal…"
I stand up as another tear rolls down my face. "Mother." I look into her eyes in hopes that she will understand that I know what I did was malicious. "Mother, I want to get out of here. I'm so sorry." I rattle the bars and start to panic. "Mom, I'm sorry."
She takes the keys and sorts through them. Mother sticks one of the keys into the hole and turns it; it causes the cell door to unlock. She opens the door, and walks into the cell. "Mal," she whispers quietly. "It is ok. You are safe, da?"
"Da," I reply. I decide to talk in my native language to have some privacy with Mother. "Why did they put me in here? Were they that upset? Did father want this too?" I speak swiftly in Russian and in a panic. "Are they going to torture me? Mother…?"
"No," she replies in the same language. "There is something that Mike wants to say to you. It involves all of us. He is going to wait a couple of days to talk to you. It's because he wants you to get your life back together. You know, shower, and eat until your heart is content… He wants you to be comfortable now."
"I can do that." The response is so fast. It sped out of my mouth as though it is a race car of words.
"Good," Mother says in English. "Svetlana is wanting you to go and having ze fun, da?"
"Yes, Mother. I love you."
"Svetlana loves you too."
And with that, we walk out of the cell and leave the past behind us.
