I don't own anything you recognize from the movie.
TOO FAR GONE
He who was lost, was not lost
but pained and tormented
by the lack of freedom
He came to me again last night. It's weird, considering he's not the one to form attachments, yet he shows up every night just as the sun has set.
He climbed in through the window of my bedroom chamber and, like always, he pulled the heavy curtains closed in front of the window. He removed his weapons and placed them on the small wooden table in the middle of the room before he stripped of his armor. I just watched him. Meeting my eyes, he made his way over to my bed as I scooted over, moving closer to the cold stone wall behind me to make room for him. I could lay for hours and just watch him.
Sometimes he would let me bathe him. I'd have a maid bring in water to fill the tub before having him lay down. I'd slowly work my fingers through the knots in his hair, and to myself… enjoy the softness of his hair sliding in between my fingers as I lightly combed it. An animal… that's what he's called most of the time. A savage, a brutal savage… He rarely speaks, and he never does anything to stop the rumors that might show up; he doesn't care.
On normal nights, he'd just enter my chamber and lay down beside me without uttering a word. But, despite his silence, I still know what he wants, what he longs for. One of the first times we met he confessed what he longed for. But it had all changed the day he fought the Saxon. He had wanted his hell to end, but after almost losing his life, he's been hanging on by a thread, gripping the thread for dear life.
As he lies down on my bed, I wrap my arms around him and whisper the words he wants to hear into his ear as I hold him. Usually, he's tense. It's like he's expecting someone to come rushing through the doors and yell at him for not being who he's supposed to be. But I make him relax as I let my fingers brush against the side of his face; it makes him close his eyes.
I always let him fall asleep. He lets his guard down and I'm soon to follow him into the abyss of dreams. Sometimes he wakes up shivering. I make him turn towards me as I look into his eyes, silently telling him that everything's all right. But things are never all right. Things will never be all right. He falls asleep again and I continue holding him close.
He wakes me up the morning after by placing a kiss to my forehead before rolling out of the bed. Without speaking, he walks over to the table and slowly puts his armor back on; his eyes locked with mine. I keep my eyes locked with his as he straps his weapons back on the way they were arranged on his person the night before. With a small nod, he turns and disappears out the same way he had entered; through the curtain-covered window just as the sun is about to rise over the mountaintops in the far distance.
He is rootless. He was torn away from his home when he was nothing but a lad, and he were forced into a life that shouldn't even be in a young man's dreams. Fifteen years of slavery does something to a person, man or woman. Fifteen years of slavery changes who you are. He is too far gone now. There's nothing that can be done to turn him back into the person he was before he was taken. It's too late. I only hope he will find some kind of release before it is too late. He's hanging onto a thread, but the thread will snap in two and he will fall. Till then, all I can do for him is to be there for him when he needs me. I love him, but he is too far gone.