The crooked wooden door sits slightly lopsided on the old frame, reminding me of yet another project I’ve put aside in this house.With my eyes pinched shut, I beg the door to be silent as I pull it open.By some miracle, it obeys.It remains silent even as the latch snicks shut.
Tiptoeing down the stairs, I make a mental note to fix that door out of pure gratitude.I inhale the musty scent of dust and dampness just before my feet land on the frigid, concrete flood.My head bobs up and down, desperate to avoid the network of cobwebs that blanket the ceiling and reach their tendrils toward my hair.
My eyes pan around the dark, musky space.In hindsight, I realize this was an absolutely terrible plan.I've trapped myself in a concrete box with no doors and only tiny windows that I could never fit through.I blink away the tears forming in the corners of my eyes.Crying won't save me.
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
His footsteps beat against the floor.The wood groans overhead.It cries out, screaming the way I wish I could.I feel the scream building in my throat, becoming louder and larger.I'm afraid that soon I won't be able to hold it in any longer.I pinch my lips together, willing my voice to stay silent.
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
The sound is his footsteps inches closer and closer to the basement door.My eyes frantically bounce around the nearly bare room, searching for a place to hide.The plastic bins of Mom's old stuff won't give me enough coverage.Plus, I can't tolerate the thought of dying here with my blood painting the few precious memories I have of her.
As I crouch my body behind the rusted, old water heater, terrible thoughts rush in and threaten to drown me.Will I truly die here?Gray is a monster, a monster who came here with blood on him.Blood that I very much doubt is his own.Has he tired of me?He said his patience wasn’t limitless.He told me that he wanted everything from me, but I have nothing to give.
You're nothing, girl,my father's words ghost through my ears.You're nothing but a waste of space.
I exhale a shaky breath, feeling the seconds tick by slowly.A soft clicking sound from the top of the stairs has my muscles clenching painfully.The stairs creak under his heavy footfalls.I pinch my eyes shut, too afraid to look up.But even behind my eyelids, I can see his shadow looming over the room.It moves and changes, becoming larger and more monstrous with each step.
His voice floats toward me, soft and cooing.“Come out, little bird.I know you're down here.”
Panic rises in my throat like hot bile.I squeeze my knees into my chest, making my body as small as I can.I try to muffle the sound of my panting breath by bowing my head until my kneecaps dig into my forehead.A scream builds inside me like a pressure in my chest.
A hand lands on the back of my neck.The pressure releases, along with my scream.
“You promised you wouldn't run from me again, precious.”
