This wasn't how it was suppose to end. I'm not supposed to be this broken, like a teacup thrown to the floor. I shouldn't be a prisoner, but a queen.

In my dreams they torment me. Their faces are always in my mind. They are very tortured souls. My cellmate says it's all fake, but who am I to determine what is real and what is fake in this world?

This is not who I am. I am not a hostage; a chess piece in some big, elaborate game. I am not someone who obeys the rules and follows instructions. I am fierce. I am hardened. I am unpredictable, but so are they.

I think that's what scares me the most. They aren't predictable. Every day they find new ways to make me even more terrified. Because let's face it, I am terrified.

My cellmate says they can't do this for much longer. Eventually they will get tired. I'm not so sure though. Each day is new. New methods, new questions, new interests, new guards. They must really like me, but what is it that makes me so likeable?

I never had any contact with these people in my entire life before they captured me. Why me? I'm going to escape. I made the promise that I would stay safe. Even though I have failed before, I will not fail again.

I expressed this thought to my cellmate. She agreed. Even though she doesn't have any family, she says she has a lover back home. She will come back to him. I am sure of it.

I have no one worth living for back home. My mother drinks until the liquor runs dry, my sister died in a public execution that also took my father and my friend's lives. No one could ever love a monster like me. It's the truth. A depressing truth, but a truth nonetheless.

My cellmate keeps telling me to stop my yapping, except we both know that is a near impossible feat for me. Since my last "lesson", I have done nothing but mumble and scream incoherent thoughts to virtually no one. Before I came to this establishment, I would only talk if absolutely necessary. I was a hunter and a spy. Now, I can't even be quiet long enough to eat the meager ration of stale bread they give us here.

These people have taken so much from me. Although, I didn't have much to give in the first place. They've taken my family, my skills, my body, my name. Nothing is mine anymore. I think that's what hurts the most. I used to be so free of restrictions. Everything revolved around my schedule. I knew what needed to be done and they were completed at my own leisure. Now, I don't even know when my next meal will be. It's like putting a wild mockingbird in a steel cage, never letting him out except when it was time for his wings to be clipped.

I relate a lot to that little bird. I once was free, but now I'm locked in a steel cage with my wings painfully clipped. And each time my wings are cut, a piece of my soul is cut too.

However wings don't stay clipped forever. If left unattended, they grow back. And each time they come back, that little broken piece is repaired. The mockingbird feels alive and whole again. And he escapes.

I am the mockingbird.