sampson cage {d i s t r i c t t w o} fin

She can hardly stand anyone these days. Panic, hot and rapid, seizes her most nights leaving her sleepless, helpless. Dark purple bags have taken permanent residence underneath her eyes, an evidence to her suffering that they refuse to see. They, her parents, though she scarcely thinks of them as such anymore have damned her. It's an opportunity, a chance to live a happy life, that is their mantra. The thought makes her sick. It twists knots into her stomach and forces bile into her throat, Sampson could never be happy serving another. Somewhere in their diligent brainwashing raising of the girl, they'd made a wrong turn. She was fiery, independent, she feels just like them and yet she's treated as if her tongue is already decaying.

It'd be easy. Her parents can't seem to wrap their head around the idea that any of their perfect children would want to leave. In the middle of the night, when everyone else was asleep she could force her window open. Only taking the clothes on her back and run away from it all. She didn't care if she ended up on the streets, starving and homeless, anything was better than the fate they had lined up for her. It's the others that tether her to that place. Her siblings, the ones yet to fall victim to her parents tyranny. Even those who agree with their lessons. Sampson loved each and every one of them too dearly to allow her parents to ruin their lives as they had Attend and Anyana. (And soon enough, herself.)

The damned girl takes refuge under a cracked willow, by the fence so close to an escape from her fate. For hours they talk, Fee and she. Not a single word is spoken, fingers flying like gunfire. Her little brother cannot speak, words having never left his lips. It was some sick joke, really, her parents adopting this boy and training him just like the rest of them. Perhaps they thought him willing, never having been able to speak. Tongues are so much more than that, something you'd never imagine living without until you had to. She could never kiss a lover the same, never again able to taste her favorite meals. She was not as bold as Fee, he had a stronger voice than she, even if he had none. Sampson's words were her last chance to fight back, the last part of herself that her parent's hadn't managed to take.

Be meek. Be quiet. Question nothing. No. Be grateful. Be gracious. Be feeble. No. Don't question. Don't try. Be happy. No. No. NO.

Anger boils beneath her skin, the last words she may ever speak sharp and blunt. Only Fee understands, as she had understood him for so long. The first to learn his language, the first to help him in his rebellions. She is scared, a feral cat cornered knowing that capture is inevitable yet lashing out with claws all the same. As hard as she tries to stand strong, she can feel a force rising against her, slowly stealing the girl's will to live. Sampson was strong (weak), Sampson could (couldn't) do it. She just had to (not) try. The battle is constant, self-preservation pitted against the constant lessons of her parents. To care for another, to serve them. Eighteen years had taken its toll, teachings breaking past the fiery wall she had built, ones guised as selflessness but truly and utterly complete disregard for her own needs.

She cannot leave. No matter what she wants. She cannot leave because of them. Their bright eyes and red lips, tongues eagerly forming around high pitched words.

Sampson hates them for it.

She loves them more.

It seems the closer her deadline draws, the more they change. Even her best friend. Her little brother. Nothing was the same, his clothes, his habits, his behaviors. She did not blame the boy, as he'd soon have to live on his own. Perhaps he blamed her for not being able to save herself, had begun to resent her because soon she would be gone, one way or another. It was not as though she hadn't considered an easier way out than losing her tongue.

She no longer sees herself in the mirror. Panic and anxiety keep her from her meals, most often locked in her room or cowering within the shadow of their willow. Her cheeks have begun to sink, ribs having long since surfaced as her stomach began to collapse upon itself. It's as if ice has covered her entire body, at first so cold she could not move and now numbing her to the point she cannot feel anything. Anything but the rage threatening to thaw her. Sampson feels no hunger, nothing but pain and despair. Did happiness ever really exist? The only thing that had managed to break a smile upon her lips was Fee. No matter how big he grew, he'd always be her little brother. Now she felt as though she was on the brink of losing him too.

It is not her sadness that rises to the surface, but her anger and determination. It's a far better suit on her anyways, but it does nothing to help her now. Hours had been spent brainstorming with Fee, stupid plans formulated to save her and by extension the others.They had wielded nothing and her hope was once again snuffed by her parent's fingers.

The irony of their name is not lost on the forsaken girl. She despises her Cage refuses to answer to a family name that feels less like a family and more of a prison. More of a cage she would smile if she remembered how. Her name is not Sampson Cage. It is not Sammy Cage or Sam Cage.

Her name is Sampson and nothing else.

Eighteen years have taught her far too little. She craves the attention of girls, her once bright features drawing them to her every now and then. Sampson was a pretty girl, but avoxes were not allowed love. They were punished, killed, for engaging in such pleasantries. Her parents would never allow their perfect servant to understand love. No matter how she grew, the feelings unearthed by years of repression, she has yet to kiss a girl. Now, she never will.

As hard as she fights, a part of her has given in. A wife beaten every day of her life some how comes to accept that that is what's normal, it becomes a truth. She cannot do anything to change her fate, yet spends her days in fear of a fist that will inevitably come. However angry Sampson becomes, the harder she kicks and screams, the more entangled within hopelessness she becomes. A fly only deepening the web's hold on it, as the spider waits, eyes gleaming with the joy of a new meal.

She needs help.

Help.

"Help me!"

The forsaken girl's head rushes forward, landing upon the covers between her extended legs. Nightmares had visited her nightly for far too long now. Always the same. She could see the knife ripping into her tongue, feel the blood fill her mouth and taste the metallic taint yet felt nothing. Her new masters forced her to the ground, hands forcing their way into her skin. She could see the deep purple bruises upon her hands, kissing her arms and her cheeks. Sampson could hear the whistle of his beefy hands cutting through the air just before they made contact with her skin yet when he landed the blow. she felt nothing.

When she tried to scream, only a bloody stump moved within her mouth. Not a word was capable of leaving her, the taste of blood only lingering within her throat.

Help me. Help me.

HELP ME.

this is your heart
can you feel it?