Sita

She never knew his name, not really. He presented himself as a man named Jack, but she knew that was likely a lie. He crafted an entire persona just for her, in an attempt to woo her. In a way, she felt sorry for him. He was delusional enough to think that it was a good dating technique to throw a woman in his dungeon, which was really just a basement, but with all the amenities of a prison cell.

She ignored everything that came out of his mouth. While she was unharmed physically, she knew that only a monster would lock away a young woman under the pretense of romance. He was a liar, and a pretty good one, but was strong against his advances. For all she knew, if she allowed him to indulge in this romantic delusion he had, once he played out his story, he would kill. That's what serial killers did - established a pattern, played out the fantasy, and then moved on to another victim.

Sita refused to be a statistic, or a sad reference on the evening news.

For a year, she plugged her ears to what came out of his mouth - I'm a CEO, and I want you to be my diamond-studded trophy wife - and focused on every detail he accidentally let slip. She noticed things like the motor oil that often found its way onto his jeans. She knew he was a mechanic. She knew, based on the sounds that made it through the concrete, that they were in a low-income area, with a good amount of gun violence.

She also noticed that there was a man who mowed the lawn. It might not have been "Jack's" lawn, maybe one of a neighbor, but every month she heard a riding lawn mower buzz past, close enough to be deafening. Too often, this lawn mower came by when Jack was home, watching TV upstairs. One day, however, the familiar sound came in the middle of the day, when she knew Jack was gone. She waited for the mower to fall silent, and then she let out the loudest scream of her life. She screamed until her voice went hoarse, not knowing if it'd made any difference at all.

The next day, she heard a knock from upstairs. It was the first visitor that Jack had, besides door-to-door salesmen who never seemed to hear her screams. She heard mumbling as whomever knocked came inside to speak with Jack. She couldn't hear much of their conversation, even with her ear pressed to the door, but one word came through loud and clear: "Police."

Her voice was still recovering from the previous day's activities, but she gave it her all, screaming right into the small crack at the bottom of the door. Soon, the door flew open, and Jack was arrested. She was free. Her skin was white as a sheet, her muscles had atrophied some, and she smelled like an outhouse, but she was finally free. Strangely, she could only stare, ignoring the police's questions on the drive to the station.

Even though it was summer again, even though she was in the police-issued sweatshirt and sweatpants, she was shaking. A year of cold – cold cell floors, cold human interactions, hope run cold – had chilled her to the bone. She found herself grasping for some semblance of a real, raw human emotion, and she came back empty handed. How long, she wondered, would she feel this robotic indifference to life? Would she ever have something to look forward to again?

And then she remembered Rama. Everything changed.

Sita felt she could breathe again. The relief and warmth that flooded her once she considered their reunion was palpable – the first thing she’d felt in a year.

It took some time for the police to process her statement and release her. Finally, she was free. The year she spent fending off the advances of her kidnapper, who was delusional enough to believe that she could find love for him, were some of the most stressful and boring of her life. She had an itch for something real, and Rama was at the top of her list.

Rama was in the police station parking lot, leaning against the trunk of his car, smoking a cigarette. His brother was beside him, and Sita first saw the light of recognition and excitement in his eyes.

"Sita!" Lakshmana came toward her, arms outstretched in the warmest hug she'd felt in too long. Tears stung her eyes.

When she searched for Rama's gaze, it was not on her. Instead, he stared at the burning tip of his cigarette.

"R-Rama?" She felt invisible, and the look on Rama's brother's face went from excitement to immeasurable awkwardness. "Aren't you happy to see me, Rama?"

"I'm glad you're safe," he said, sullenly, without meeting her eye. "I hope you have a full and happy life free of that horrible man's control."

"What do you mean?" She let out a harsh laugh of disbelief.

"It's obvious that you slept with him, Sita. You were there in his home for a year. I can't trust that you were loyal to me the entire time."

She was speechless. The hardest moments of the last year bubbled to the surface. She recalled when her captor promised her better, more regular meals and a TV in her dungeon if she would have a simple "date" with him, little black dress and candle lit dinner, etc. Loyal to Rama, she refused, and spent the entire year in bored isolation, hoping only for the day he would rescue her. Sita's faith in Rama was so absolute, the fact that he didn't return the same trust came as a stab to her. It was a mortal wound, killing their relationship. She could see it was dead in his eyes. She hoped he saw it die in hers.

"I could stand here and try to convince you that I was a good girl for that year in his dungeon," she said, practically spitting at him. "But I owe you nothing."

Sita left him gawking after her, intent on starting a life on her own and finding a good cup of coffee.

Author's Note: In the original story, after Sita's rescue from her captor, Rama doubts her purity and tells her she is free to go on without him. She was "pure," however, and walked on fire to prove it. The god of fire came forward to vouch for her purity, enticing the doubting Rama to accept her as his wife once more. In my adaptation, I pulled it into the modern world, where the police rescued her from a kidnapper. Rama doubted her purity, as in the original, but this time she refused to prove it to him. I always found that part of the story particularly disturbing. For Rama to wage war in Sita's name, and then to turn her away so coldly, seemed entirely unfair. There was no trust, not even a line of questioning of her health and experience with her captor. Most mortals, when faced with a man who distrusts them, would not react as pleasantly as Sita did in the epic. However, she was in the presence of an incarnation of a god, and I'm sure that changed her perception of the situation. Through a modern, godless lens, however, I feel my Sita's response makes much more sense.

Bibliography: Narayan's Ramayana, Chapter 5. Accessed on Kindle.

Revision Note:

I made several revisions regarding grammar and wording, based on our instructor's suggestions. For example, I clarified my meaning when referencing who came forward to hug Sita - it was his brother, not Rama himself. I made sure to clarify, also, what I meant by the "light" in the eyes comment. I intended to say that the brother's expression switched to a happy one when he saw Sita leaving the police station. I attempted to rephrase that sentence to better convey that. I also worked on minor grammar mistakes in the author's note.

I also added to the story considerably, blending the appearance at the police station with the actual time she spent as an abducted woman. I thought it would be interesting to allow the reader to see how she managed her escape. While it was not a particularly daring or brave escape, it was a clever one, which required a lot of focus and hope on her part.

I wanted Sita to be a bright but overall very normal girl.

I felt police lights contributed to the setting, framing my version in an entirely different way. Found on Flickr.