Out of the Lion’s Den

I was the perfect prey.  I was the kind of prey that walked right into the lion’s den.  The beautiful lion stared at me, lazy and indolent.  He purred and rubbed up against me and I was so happy.  A lion actually liked me!  The lion chose me as someone he was interested in.

Then the lion got bored.  He had never thought to take me into his pride.  I was his toy, a thing to play with.  He nosed me aside when I came to spend time with him.  I ran after him, wondering why he wasn’t interested in me.  After all, if he was interested in the first place, why wouldn’t that interest grow into a more long-term relationship.

I forgot that he was a lion.  I thought that I could tame him, a beast that loved the hunt.

It took me many years to leave that lion alone.  It took more years before I gradually began to drift away from all the memories of darkness that plagued me.

It took me five minutes to have the darkness resurface, to have memories flood back. To learn that I wasn’t the only one devastated by this predator.  To learn that I was actually the lucky one that got away and escaped. 

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