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There's a little girl locked in my basement. She's always been there. Nobody misses her. Nobody is looking for her. Nobody but me even knows she exists. And I can't get rid of her. I've thought about killing her several times, but I can't. Any injury I inflict hits me twice as bad. I can't cut her any more than I could sever my own neck. And it's not that I want her to suffer. I want to end her suffering, but I can't. She is so very fragile and vulnerable, and it breaks my heart to see her sad. It would be easier if I could truly hate her, but I can't. I love her with every fiber of my heart. But I don't treat her like I love her. I keep her locked away, out of sight, in the dark. Where no one can see her, and no one can hurt her, but she can't really live like this. She wants to feel the sun on her skin, and share her smile and warmth and love with the world. She wants to make friends, and have people to talk to and play with. She just wants a normal life and I can't give it to her. The world is a sharp, cruel place with many teeth and things that gnash and tear. The world will eat her alive, brutalize her, destroy her. In here she is safe. Safe and locked away from the world - and from any chance of salvation. I tried ignoring her, letting her starve. I locked the door and ignored her and tried to forget she was down there, to convince myself I had imagined the whole thing. It didn't work. She's resilient, and can survive with very little. And I couldn't forget, not completely. She was at the back of my thoughts constantly, at work, in my sleep. A dull pounding, my very own telltale heart beating out the same three words over and over: let me out. Let me out. Let me out. Eating dinner with my parents, and they ask, how have you been? Let me out. Brewing a pot of coffee in the morning before work, Let me out. It's still there, that unending refrain. Sometimes it's louder. Sometimes it's barely audible unless I listen very hard, in a quiet room, but it never stops. Let me out, let me out, let me out. I finger the handle of my knife as I slice the crusts off her little sandwich (PB&J, her favorite!) before I bring it down. She hates crusts. I think about just getting it over with and slitting my jugular, right now. I could do it. She would die, of course, without me to feed her - the nourishment of food, yes, but also hope. Every time I descend the steps, she thinks, maybe I will let her go now. Maybe this is the time I fumble my key, or she can pickpocket my phone. It's not, though. I'm too careful for that. I will put the plate inside the arc of her chain where she can reach it, and leave, the light from the top of the stairs narrowing until it disappears. I hope, really, more than anything, I can let her out someday. That I can find a soft, kind place where I can let her be and she can finally grow up. She's been down there, a little girl, for years and years and years, missing so many milestones. It's too late for so many things, and if I ever do let her out, the weight of all those years and missed experiences will hit her all at once. She'll never get to be a kid, or a tween, or a teen, or a college student. Every day I keep her down there is a day stolen from her and the life she should have had. I keep waiting for a perfect day to set her free, but I know that day will never come. She will miss her 20s and 30s, her marriage, her children. Her parents will never get to feel proud of her - she'll miss their funerals too. She will never get to feel the sun on her skin. She will never get to fall in love. And I will die, and she with me. She will fade away and be forgotten, like she was never there. There's a girl in my basement, and nobody knows but me. Please, then. Won't somebody, anybody, let me out?

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Mike had just rolled into work at 9.35am to start yet another boring day at the office. He was a little late but seemed in no hurry what so ever.I really want to quit this job, thought mike as he opened the fridge and peered into it longingly. He took out the milk and slammed the fridge door shut. His colleague was sitting in the same room, looking at a newspaper, suddenly jumped and nearly spat out his coffee when Mike had slammed the fridge door. Mike poured the milk in his cup roughly...

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We start this week’s show with an establishing shot of St Mary’s Stadium, home of Southampton Football Club ... Then spinning around to look over the River Solent, zooming in on a large, gray-green structure with little round windows ... Then we cut to that building – on a dusty industrial estate - with the river and St Mary’s Stadium in the background. A sign on the front of the building reads “MAIN AGGREGATES”. Our host steps into frame from the side, immediately making the scene better to...

TangentChapter 10 Outpost

Judy was woken for the second day in a row by a kick on the foot. She cracked an eye and saw Tanda Havra once again standing over her. "Breakfast," Tanda informed Judy. "Then horse or wagon." Judy looked around the tent, empty except for the two of them. She must have been tired to sleep past the others getting up! "Horse," Judy said almost without thinking. She'd seen the wagons yesterday. They bumped and jolted you; there were no springs. "Be ready, be quick!" Tanda told her,...

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