Cage

The moment I see her sitting on that wooden seat in the front, I want to run to her, but I know I can’t. These two officers behind me keep me in line and force me to sit down across from her, unable to reach out to her. The shackles around my wrists force me to keep my hands together, and I hate that she has to see them.

That she has to see me like this … chained up … like a monster.

Everyone in the room looks at me with disdain, with fear in their eyes, shutting me out. They don’t know me as she does. They think I’m a beast, an animal that’ll only hurt and cause pain.

That’s what that DA person describes when she begins her case. How I’m a savage, born in a cage, and not useful for anything other than fighting and killing. That I was raised as a beast and should be kept away from society. I’m not fit for life out in the real world.

Her words hurt, but none of them are as bad as seeing the look on Ella’s face while she endures it all. Her watery eyes stain my soul, corrupt me to the point of wanting to lash out.

I can’t take it much longer. Can’t take being unable to defend myself.

I know she told me not to do anything and to let the defense do their job for me, but I hate sitting around and doing nothing. I want to be in control over my own fate for once in my life.

Biting my lip, I hear every single word the woman on the stand says. About how my handprints are all over him and the knife that cut my father. That I made him drive into a tree by jumping onto the car. How I murdered my own father by pushing him down a cliff.

None of it’s true, yet when she presents the facts the way she does, it all makes sense.

To the people around us, at least.

Not to me.

But that doesn’t matter.

Not to anyone but Ella, her parents, and her friend.

Because all the other people in this room seem to stare at me with disgust, probably thinking I’m part of the problem. That I somehow helped my father set up his scheme and do all those things to those girls. That I impregnated her … and that she never wanted that.

I did none of that.

All I did was love a girl. And now I might be locked up forever because of it.

Ella is called forward, and she sits down on the bench near the judge, right in front of me. Her eyes never leave mine as she holds her hand up in the air and speaks out the words the judge wants her to repeat.

I’m hung on her lips, wanting to hear every single word she has to say.

“Miss Rosenberg, were you captured by this man?” The woman holds up a picture.

Ella nods and signs. There’s a signer present who can interpret everything she signs to speech.

“Yes, that’s him,” the interpreter says.

“Did he come to your house and threaten you?”

“Yes,” she signs, and the interpreter speaks.

“And then he forced you into a car, and the defendant here chased after it, jumped onto it, and shoved a knife into the glass?”

She nods. “Yes,” the interpreter says.

“Did the defendant intend to physically harm his father with that same knife?”

She nods again, and the interpreter speaks the word. “Yes.”

“When the defendant managed to pull you out, according to your story, the car crashed into a tree. His father then ran into the forest, and the defendant chased him. Were you there to see that happen?”

“Yes, but I did not follow him into the woods until after his father was dead,” Ella explains with the help of the interpreter.

“So it’s safe to say you don’t know how he died?”

The room erupts into whispers, and the judge has to call the room to order.

It takes a few seconds for everything to be quiet again and for Ella to answer. “Yes.”

The woman nods. “So he could’ve killed his own dad by pushing him down the ledge.”

“That’s not what happened,” Ella signs, with her interpreter speaking the words for her. “I trust Cage’s story. He didn’t kill him. His father fell.”

“Right …” The woman narrows her eyes, knowing she’s cornered us. “But you both had the means and reasons to kill him.”

We have no proof of anything, but neither does she. It’s our story against hers.

“But let’s discuss what happened to you personally. A few months ago, you were taken by this same man, his father. And were you put into a cage? A cage that was right beside the defendant’s?”

Ella signs. “Yes. We were kept separate,” the interpreter says.

“Can you describe it please?”

“There were three cages in total, and one room connecting them all together.”

“And yours was connected to the defendant’s cage? Who is the son of the man who took you?”

She signs. “Yes,” the interpreter interprets.

“And when this man”—she holds up the picture again—“Graham, opened the cages … you were allowed to enter the other room on your own volition?”

“Yes, but he would use gas if we didn’t listen,” the interpreter says for Ella, who signed it.

“But he would never use gas in the defendant’s cage?”

She shakes her head. “No,” the interpreter says.

“So when the defendant saw the opportunity to go into your cage to grab you, he did so of his own free will. Correct?”

Ella signs. “No,” the interpreter says. “His father would hurt the prisoners if he didn’t do as told.”

“But he would never hurt his own son, would he?” the woman asks.

“Objection, calls for speculation,” the laywer says.

Ella looks at him for a second, but the judge speaks first. “Overruled.”

Ella signs. “He did harm Cage with a chip inside his body that fired electricity into his muscles,” the interpreter says.

“But has his father used that on him to make him go into your cell?”

Ella shakes her head. “No,” the interpreter says.

“So then we can safely say he went into your cage on his own volition and took you into the room to proceed to have sex with you.”

The whole room erupts into a collective gasp, and I bite my lip to stop myself from roaring out of rage. They don’t know our story. Her words are paper thin compared to what we experienced. But that woman is clever enough to know it’ll work to her advantage. To leave out the crucial stuff and focus on the bad bits. The things I can’t take back.

“And then he impregnated you,” the woman continues, “while you were in captivity.”

More sighs and gasps can be heard.

I hate the sound.

Hate that they don’t approve of our relationship. That they’re trying to spin it into something it’s not.

“And he did this knowing it was wrong,” she says.

“Objection, argumentative,” the lawyer says. And the judge says she sustains it.

But Ella answers anyway. “No,” Ella’s interpreter says as she signs. “He never knew it was wrong.”

But the woman asking the questions has already made up her mind. “Did he ever try to defy his father? Did he ever say no? Did he ever stop himself or his father from harming you?”

I don’t understand why she keeps pushing it in this direction.

Why are we no longer focusing on my father’s death, but on Ella. On what happened to her and me.

And then it hits me.

It’s because she can never prove my father died because of me.

But she can prove what I did with Ella … because the proof is inside her, growing as we speak. And going there is her only option to get me convicted. Because that’s what this woman ultimately wants.

Me. Behind bars.

I’m the only one she can punish now that my father is gone, so she’ll do anything she can to get me there.

Ella shakes her head, almost on the verge of crying, but she persists as she signs. “He helped me escape. He fought his father, and I had to leave him there.”

“After he’d already impregnated you,” she adds. “We have video footage showing the fact that you got pregnant from him as shown here.” The woman turns on a television and shows the images from my father’s camera that has Ella sitting on the ground in my cage with the pregnancy stick. I still feel warm, thinking about the moment I found out she was pregnant with my child.

“And we have footage of the day you were tied up to a wooden contraption. Now, I won’t show it to the audience because it’s quite upsetting, but I have already shown it to the judge and jury. The rest of the files were unfortunately destroyed, but the two we do have are substantial evidence to claim you were not in the position to decide. Agreed?”

“Objection, calls for a conclusion,” the lawyer says.

But Ella refuses to let it go. “No,” Ella signs, her interpreter saying the word. “I chose to let him take me. Contraption or not, I said yes. I wanted him, and he wanted me. Contraptions aren’t that uncommon.”

The woman is momentarily taken aback. “I guess you could say that. But who tied you to that contraption? Him or his father? And who put you in the cage? What was the sole purpose of you being there?” she asks. “Was it sex?”

Ella grimaces and briefly glances at me. I wonder if that woman is right. The rest of the room seems to believe it. I’m even starting to doubt myself.

What if I am really the bad guy?

Because I did something to her without her wanting the same thing?

Is she better off without me?

If all those things are true, maybe I should be locked up. Maybe I should go away forever because I hurt her … and I never wanted to hurt her.

I want her to be happy, and if that means being rid of me, then so be it.

She deserves the life my father took away from her.

I have no right to stake my claim on that.

Not if it’s not right.

If it isn’t what she wants.

But as I gaze at her with my unrelenting love, I can see a strength in her eyes that I haven’t seen before. A fire burns inside them that seems inextinguishable.

* * *

“Did he use you for sex?” the woman asks as the entire room grows silent.

Ella gazes at the woman with her head held high and not an inch of regret on her face as she signs. “No.”

Everyone is silent even though I can see the faces of the people around me fill with shock.

“I love him,” the interpreter says for Ella.

The woman stands there flabbergasted as Ella keeps signing.

“I willingly let him take me, and I participated out of my own free will. Our baby is the product of love.”

“But … are you sure you’re not just saying that out of fear?”

“My counselor checked me and said I was perfectly sane, and I have proof,” the interpreter says after Ella signs. Ella holds up two pieces of paper and hands one to the woman and another one to the judge. “I am sane, and I choose to love Cage.”

She focuses on me now, signing as she gives her heart to me. “There’s nothing difficult about it … I fell in love with this man, and I owe him my life.”

Something inside me breaks, forcing me to witness the power of her love for me.

“He is a victim. Born without ever having the ability to make decisions on his own. But we made this decision together, and I wanted him as much as he wanted me,” she explains, signing as the interpreter fills in her missing words. “And I want nothing more than to have him in my life … and our baby that we made by our own choice.”

She chose to lie even when it’s forbidden.

Chose to say that she wanted everything for the sake of saving me.

Because rules don’t matter when you want to save the person you love.

No one can prove her wrong. Her heart and mind are unshakable, impenetrable. No one can touch the truth she’s forged for herself.

And as long as she upholds that truth … no one can take me down.

No one can lock me up as long as she believes in my innocence.

“Cage is innocent. He protected me from his father, and now you’re trying to prosecute him? Where is the humanity? The compassion? Since when did we start locking up victims? Since when did we forget how to forgive and forget? He did nothing wrong. Nothing.” Ella’s signing is furious, and I feel so proud of her that I can feel the fire burn inside me, wishing I could go to her right now.

“L-let. H-him. Go.” It’s her voice now, speaking through the microphone. Scratchy, but still clear nonetheless.

Her final words slam into me like a fist, but I’ll willingly go down for her.

My Ella … she’s the warrior, not me.

She went through the worst experience in her life, fought it all with tenderness and hope, and now she stands here to defend me after everything she’s been through.

She’s the woman I never deserved but got anyway.

And I intend to cherish that forever … if I still get the chance.

The woman nods and swallows, saying, “No further questions, your honor.”

The lawyers each talk one more time, and now we have to wait. How long, I don’t know, but I’ll wait.

The officers tell me to get up, so I do, and in these same chains I walk out of the room again … but they don’t quite feel as heavy as they did before.

* * *

Hours pass as I sit in this office, drinking water from a cup while being watched by two officers. When the call comes that the jury is back and has reached a verdict, my heart almost pounds out of my chest.

The men escort me outside and bring me back to the big room, setting me down on the same chair I sat on before.

Ella is right there too in the audience, staring at me as the jury people come into the room.

Everyone is quiet as the foreperson reads from a piece of paper. I only understand some of it, but it’s enough to know what my fate is.

“Without substantial proof, and with Miss Rosenberg’s statement, we came to the conclusion that we cannot willfully submit this man to any more incarceration. He has suffered enough. So we find the defendant … not guilty.” The judge dismisses the case, and I’m free to go.

I sit back and breathe out a sigh of relief while half the room erupts into yelling and the other half into cheers.

My eyes feel watery as I watch Ella’s fear and anxiety burst out into droplets rolling down her cheeks. She’s nodding constantly, staring at me, and I’m unable to look away.

The officers undo the shackles around my hands, and I rub my red wrists as I step out of the seat. Ella pushes past the people surrounding her, rushing toward me.

I hold out my arms, and she falls into me with open arms, ready to receive my love.

I’m here.

I’m free.

And I’m hers.