My cell has no toilet like the other cages. It is at the very end. But I request one, arguing with my blonde watchdog of a ward until she gives.

  I wait to be taken to the courtroom. To be drugged. For anything to happen, but no person can live without sleep. I give in and wait.

  My meals are bland. I haven’t seen sunlight. The yellow glow from the lights never goes out. Even my body betrays me. I have no steady sleep pattern to go off of. My guard stays by the door, where a wall blocks. I never know when they come and go or if there’s more than one at all.

  ? ? ?

  I am sleeping when I awake suddenly. There’s something different; a presence. I call for it to find myself utterly alone. It lingers, and I find all hopes of sleep slip away.

  Hours later, the presence is gone.

  ? ? ?

  I dig into my food knowing that my body needs it even if I do not want it. Then I do a few stretches to stay active. I use the toilet and sit on the hard mattress for what must be hours until I get tired again.

  I pick at my long nails and my hair, then rebraid my frizzy hair, only to do it again, tighter this time. I’d exercise more, but sweating without a shower is not very hygienic. So I pace the uneven floor instead, only making half a dozen circles before I get dizzy in the small space. Shit.

  The presence is back. Getting stronger, fading, then coming back. It torments me like that until there’s a steady stream of the feeling. It takes minutes before I hear the door click open.

  I see black boots, then the ruler. He’s dressed in all black but in less extravagant leather gear than the last time I saw him. He stands there for a while studying me before he comes to the cage door.

  I mean to ignore him, but I don’t. I find myself staring at him, even angling my head to try to catch a better glimpse of his eyes. Maybe if I can clearly see them, I’ll see a little piece of mercy in them.

  My legs move without permission. I’m off the bed. I’m standing right in front of him.

  A small shake of his head shows his disapproval before he turns his back to me and leaves. The presence is gone minutes later. But it comes back, not completely disappearing.

  He’s in the room again, and he hangs a key on the hook that is on the opposite wall from my cage. Then he leaves for good.

  I sit on my bed, defeated, and begin to cry. I am not cut out for these mind tricks. But he toys with me again later. Afterwards, I peeled off my long fingernails, which bothered me, and bite back the rest.

  He again enters, wearing the same style of clothing. I knew that he was coming. I felt it. This time I am waiting for him.

  He steps up to the cage where I am. I try to speak, to ask him why, to ask him anything, but nothing comes out.

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  I think it’s two days before he comes back. I set my bowl on the sink and pace. I’m deep enough in thought that I jump when I see him.

  This time, his shoulders seem to be heavier. He stands as if carrying a great weight and observes my space.

  “You have not eaten,” He motions to the stack of bowls.

  I consider this as he does. I do it with caution, trying to understand his thought process. He turns his back to me and just stands there. Then he grabs the key off the wall and unlocks the door in front of me. He opens it slowly, taking his time.

  When he allows me to step out, I take a deep breath, tasting the air as if it will be fresh. I do it several times as he leads me through the hallway.

  I don’t try the doors.

  We’re in a maze of a hallway until we reach an elevator. It’s so… Normal. It’s so completely normal that it seems out of place.

  “Get in,” he says, but I can't move my feet. They’re suddenly in mud.

  He sighs before striding inside, “Now will you join me?”

  I look down at my feet and hesitantly enter. The door shuts, and I look all around, feeling the fear set in. The dark wood paneling seems to eat up more space than there is. I look up only to jump when I see myself on the ceiling thanks to the mirrors.

  “Rulers keep their composure at all times,” he says dryly. And I think through the comment while he presses a button, and we start to move. What does he mean by that?

  His eyes snap to mine, then look down at the red carpet.

  I hear him inhale, and he straightens out his back, standing taller, and I copy him. The door opens, and he makes no move to get out. I peer out, seeing the morning glow of the sun for the first time in weeks, but don’t move either.

  He clears his throat, “This is our stop.”

  I stare at him, nod, and step out into the blinding light.

  “No rope?” I ask lamely, gesturing to my hands. Why would I say that?

  The corner of his mouth turns up in a wry smile, “Would you like that?”

  “No,” I answer, too quickly.

  I focus on our steps, his especially. I can’t hear him. He is completely silent. A glance tells me that he’s not more than an arm's length away. My heart flutters as I see the grand doors of the entryway.

  “Go ahead,” he says, his steps faltering.

  I turn around and look at him. He stands tall and nods once. But his composure is what gets to me.

  Escape. Now. Ask questions later. I bolt for the door, which goes all the way to the ceiling. Before I can reach the handle, both open, and I'm outside.

  My greedy lungs suck in all of the fresh air that they can, and I keep running. That is, until I get to the end of the entry way. I hear no one behind me, so I spare a glance backward. I am alone.

  I take in my surroundings and blink the spots away from my vision, but no matter how many times I blink, the purpleness does not go away. It’s the color of the sky. I’m not in Kansas anymore.

  I follow the castle and remember the first time that I came here. I thought that it had been a dream.

  I was in a food court with some friends and excused myself to use the restroom. The women’s side was full. I leaned against the wall to wait, but fell. I landed, but not on the ground, but just outside of a tree.

  I blinked up at the purple sky and took note of my surroundings. I crashed a funeral. The people all stared, their eyes all impossible colors like pink, purple, orange, anything imaginable. Fingers pointed, and people ran at me, meaning to kill, until I backed up against the tree again and fell.

  I was maybe sixteen at the time and decided not to go to the bathroom alone.

  I look for trees and try my best to remember everything about that time. I remember the black railing and spot it off in the distance. I’m already running, sprinting, and I don’t recall ever feeling so relieved.

  I circle the whole cemetery until I find the grave that was dug that day, then my tree. I lean on it, and do it over and over again, but nothing happens. I try like a fool for minutes until my knees hit the ground.