“PER FAVORE, PADRE!” The words left her tongue in a scream, met with that of a bolted door confining her inside of those four walls once again. Hidden. Kept inside like a puppet whose master only toyed with her when convenient for himself. “Per favore..” She pleaded on and on, knowing she would be met with nothing but silence from her father. If she was lucky enough for just that. The pen and marked up notebook containing her thoughts and random lyrics the only comfort she’d found for so long as tortured eyes stared through a tiny window. Hoping one day to be finally and ultimately freed from her cage. 


 

It was nothing new at this point. More like a reoccurring nightmare that relentlessly stalked her dreams. The sad part was realizing it was actually her reality. From the basement to the jungle. It all lead to Paris and circled back to the first two decades of her life. Being trapped. Locked away by those who were supposed to protect her. Her family was one thing, but the organization another. It’s the one thing she couldn’t figure out. Sure, she knew everyone there, including herself, had done and continued doing things they shouldn’t be proud of, but did that mean they deserved what kept happening. That’s when Sydney starting feeling guilty. Guilty for even allowing the thoughts of doubt to cross her mind, as she always did. 

‘We learn. We grow. We learn. We grow. We do our best to understand that of which we don’t know.’ Over and over again. Those same words decorated the page before her, even though her first intentions where to jot down reasons, or lessons to get any closer to understanding what had happened. Even though she knew she would probably never have a clear mind on it. But writing was the only thing that helped. It was the only thing she’d ever had. She had no one to talk to, besides a couple of friends she rarely ever got the chance to see. She couldn’t unleash her feelings on anyone, especially her father or brother. Harming herself had never come to mind, as miserable as she was. It was all about surviving. Proving to herself that she could make it. That she could withstand the storm raging through her life, she always promised herself she would. Coping wasn’t easy, but the clearest outlet for Sydney had always been writing down her thoughts in whatever form.