Trapped
by J. P. San
J.P. San’s “Trapped” is a flash fiction story containing themes of emotional distress, mental health struggles, entrapment, and references to past betrayal. It explores mature and sensitive topics, including family conflict and hopelessness. In the story, a woman, abandoned by her husband and children, wakes each day to a life that no longer feels like her own. In the quiet prison of her mother’s house, she searches for meaning amid the routine, the anger, and the ticking of the clock. Can she find freedom, or is she destined to remain trapped in the shadows of what used to be?
Content advisory: This story explores themes of emotional distress, abandonment, and mental health struggles. It contains references to depression, familial conflict, betrayal, and feelings of hopelessness. The narrative delves into the protagonist’s intense emotional turmoil and may be triggering for readers who have experienced similar personal hardships. Reader discretion is advised.
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Trapped by J.P. San
Eventually, she retreats to bed. Her day blurs into a fog, and she recalls how the life she built—career, marriage, family—was ripped away. She stood by him when he had nothing, but now, only shattered memories and photos remain, weightless as ash in her hands.
She feels like a stranger in her mother’s house, less welcome than an intruder. It’s not a home, just a stash for her drinks, pills, and weed. Only the cats bring comfort, their quiet indifference soothing her. She envies their simple, untroubled lives, free from doubt or regret—a freedom she longs for but knows she’ll never grasp.
Her mother’s words still haunt her: “I wish I’d aborted you.” The cruelty presses against her chest, cold and heavy, making it hard to breathe.
She wraps herself in a blanket, but there’s no warmth, no comfort. Loneliness seeps through every fold, unable to shield her from the cold void that now defines her.
His love once made her feel invincible. Then, one day, he said, ‘Everyone will know you’re a terrible wife and mother. I’ll take everything. Your children will despise you.’ He left and kept his promise, dismantling her piece by piece until nothing of her remained.
Sleep offers no escape. He lingers in her dreams, a specter of what she’s lost, while despair coils around her like suffocating armor, reminding her of the endless fall.
7 a.m. The sun rises—fleeting memories of her children’s smiles and first steps spark and fade. The cats roam, indifferent. She pulls the covers tighter as if they could shield her, then clenches her teeth and whispers into the wind.
“Fuck the clock.”
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