Prompt: I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees
I shifted in my bed, swinging my legs over the edge. It’d been so long since I’d stood up, I wondered if my legs would support me. Would I then be able to walk? Did I remember how? In that moment, I had to trust that my muscles would know. They always say that you only need to learn to ride a bicycle once, right? Perhaps that wasn’t the best analogy, since this was a little different. Walking being something that infants learn…
I pulled my attention back; this moment was too important to let my mind wander. But, blast it all if I didn’t have much control over my own thoughts anymore. I set my feet on the floor and stood, letting out a shaky breathe when my legs supported me.
“Is this really the path that you want to take? The other one isn’t all that bad.” He said, his voice meant to soothe.
But I heard the edge of anger, the sliver of disdain in it and widened my stance. I wouldn’t give in. I wouldn’t!
“And how do you see my life, once I’ve agreed to your plan? Do you see me as free?” The words came out of nowhere. I clamped my mouth shut before more words spilled out.
“Of course. You’ll be free to live your own life, just as you have been these past fifteen years.”
To the outsider, his offer might have sounded good. Especially compared to the alternative I was gearing up for – possible death. But I knew what my life these past years had been like. And they’d been anything but free.
I knew what freedom was. I’d tasted it once- so many years ago it was a faint remembrance but it was there. And by that taste still lingering, I knew that how I’d been living – my body betraying me just as my mind was – that wasn’t freedom. I shifted my feet on the cold floor, sliding the right one forward a few inches. My stomach clenched and my muscles quivered but I remained standing. Emboldened, I slid my left foot forward.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him move but he checked himself. If I was to fail, it would be of my own doing. That had ever been his plan- set me up for doom, allow me to crash and burn and then, in the gentlest voice ever heard, pick me up and tell me how he’d known all along I couldn’t do it.
But this, this I would do. This was my one last chance for freedom. I didn’t care how much time I had left before my body gave out, I would die on my feet if I had to. No more crawling on my knees.
~A quick note- do I know what all these references are about? No. And while I’m curious, I find it a little cathartic to write cryptic things that tantalize the creative side of my brain, and then leave them there.
This way, we can each imagine just what it is that the person/victim has been going through and why they’re choosing now to break free of the control of the other person.
I hope you liked this and will enjoy future writing prompts that I hope to do as time goes on.
~Laura
the start of a good life 