Abandoned.

Here I kneel, head bowed, the rough planks of the wood digging into the soft smooth skin of my knees, the tender palms of my hands.

My hair, tangled, untouched, falls over my face, protecting me from the glare of the salty sun.

I am abandoned, here.

I lift my eyes, glancing out towards the ocean between the dark heavy bars of my cage. There's a froth-rimmed wave, it's folding itself closer and closer to me, giving me the sense that it is unlike any other wave that has washed through the bars of the cage, and over my bruised skin.

I cower, pressing my burned skin against the sun-heated bars that line the back of the cage. A base, animalistic urge to scream floods me, but all that manages to escape it's way from my scratched dry throat is a whisper.

I am lost here.

Above me, gulls screech at each other, and perhaps at me. I half wonder if they will enjoy picking the flesh off my bones when I no longer have the will to frighten them off, no longer have the desire to keep the flesh wrapped around my heart.

I hear it, the wave, reaching for me. It whispers to me in a language of nature, one I don't understand, yet seems so familiar, as it slides across the sand, smoothing and breaking all at once.

I am trapped here.

The whisper becomes a low roar as the wave builds, and I try to stand, gripping the bars of the cage as my knees fight against me. I am overwhelmed by the thought that I must stand, and try to hide my fear, appear as though, even in my weakened state of being, I am a formidable opponent, and that the wave cannot consume me so easily.

And then it is upon me. In a whirl of foam, and sea, I feel my body giving way, all the strength from the fear of the past moments leaving me, letting me fall.

The salt burns against my wounded skin, and though it is painful, I begin to feel as though I am being cleansed.

All air is lost to the wetness that envelopes me, and the air in my lungs cause my chest to burn, more than the rays of the sun had ever done to my skin.

Then, it was gone, more suddenly than and with none of the fanfare of, it's arrival. I am left spent against the still warm bars of the cage, gasping, wheezing for air.

I am alone.

A low guttural moan forces it's way through my chest. I raise my head towards the sky, closing my eyes against the rays of brightness, and let the rage and regret twist my mouth into cries, so terrible, so relieving.

I had no longer let myself believe in a deity, yet I find myself begging, with unintelligible moans and sobs that have begun to flow from my dry mouth, for mercy. Begging the sun, the air, the universe...

...for mercy.

Please allow me mercy.

Let me be free...