Locked Up: As long as I have pen and paper and strong legs I can be free

When I was little we had recordings of fairy tales read aloud on records. I used to love to listen to Sleeping Beauty and Rapunzel and Cinderella. I sat on the floor and huddled next to the speaker. I especially loved the imagery of a spinning wheel and a poisoned comb. When I was sixteen years old my mother locked me up in her country house for the summer. The house was located three hours from their suburban home in the middle of nowhere. She promised to let me come back to see my friends but broke the promise every weekend. "Next week you can come home," she'd promise and leave for the week. This went on for the whole summer. Finally I walked out of the house barefoot and kept walking by nightfall my feet were bleeding. I had walked ten miles. I arrived at a friends house and I got a lift home. Late that year I planned another escape, and another and another.
To this day I am terrified of being trapped. I will not go to anyones country house, boat, or you name it if it feels like a trap. On most days I feel that as long as I have pen and paper and strong legs for walking great distances, I can be free.