The Stranger's Rules

Every morning, I wake up in this old house, and the first thing I see is a card on my nightstand. It dictates the date, my supposed name, and my strict daily orders. The rules are absolute: I am forbidden from entering the kitchen. A wooden sign on the front door warns me never to step outside. Sometimes, strangers in matching uniforms invade the house, surrounding me. I am terrified. But I am most afraid of the strange man who lives here with me. I was told that if he approaches, I must never ask 'Who are you?'—I must only check if he wears a faded braided leather band on his wrist. He controls my meals and watches over me. I constantly beg him to let me go home. But every time I plead for my freedom, he simply leads me to the backyard and makes me stare in silence at the massive oak tree.