I laid in the hot sticky room listening to the constant whirring of the fan, a Smiths album playing on shuffle in the background as I stared up at the ceiling distracting myself from the pain in my wrists. The swirly ridges above me made up their own constellations, like the kind my parents had pointed out to me on star gazing camping trips when I was a child. They pointed out the Ursa Major and minor Orion, Cassiopeia and all the other ones we could see. My parents named me Cassiopeia after the constellation that was named after a beautiful queen of greek mythology who was turned into a human snake hybrid as a consequence for her hubris. I was never a prideful person, I never saw myself as significant as a twinkling ball of fire that shone in the night sky, so I never let anyone dare call me cassiopeia besides my parents. Everyone else knew me as Cassie which was so much easier to hear rather than the name of some prideful snake woman. The humidity in the room made my hair frizz and I could feel sweat gathering on my upper lip, the ceiling constellations were such a comfort and one even resembled Cepheus, a constellation named after Cassiopeia’s husband. When I was a girl I used to hope and pray for a husband but now laying here in the dark, stuffy room I prayed for something else. I prayed to the constellations and to the night sky. I prayed to Zeus and to Poseidon who punished Cassiopeia. I debated praying to Cassiopeia and Cepheus, to any being that could hear me. I prayed to never see this room again, I prayed to never feel these coarse ropes that held my wrists in place and I prayed to hear my name, not cassie, I prayed to hear my mother and my father addressing me by my full name “Cassiopeia do the dishes” “Cassiopeia clean your room” “Cassiopeia I love you” because I knew if I ever heard someone call me by my nickname I would never to be able to forget the way my captor hissed the name “Cassie”