Damaged

Chapter 2

I opened my eyes slowly. I had fallen asleep. That's all I did anymore, sleep. It's all I could do. He'd stopped bringing food to me for a while. He hasn't been back down for what seemed like days. 

My stomach growled and the room smelled like shit. The bucket he gave me for bathroom use was full. I've honestly thought about eating what's in the bucket just to get rid of the grumbling of my stomach. The cuts had healed a little but I had bruises everywhere. I had started to walk and move a bit more. Eventually, since I had nothing else to do I curled up into a ball and fell back asleep.

 I was a light sleeper so I awoke to the sound of the basement door being opened and footsteps coming down the stairs. I looked and saw him coming with something in each of his hands. When he got closer I saw, with the light from the top of the stairs, that he had a bag in one hand and a beer in the other. He was walking sloppily and I could tell he was drunk. He just dropped the bag on the floor and stumbled back up the stairs. 

I waited till I heard him close the door then I crawled twords the bag. I cautiously opened it and reached in. When I reached in I was met with something soft, something crinkly and something hard. I pulled out the soft thing and realized it was a sandwich. Food, thank god. I ate the sandwich slowly because I learned already that I couldn't eat fast after being deprived of food for so long or I would throw up. The next thing I pulled out was an apple. 'hes never given me this much at once' I thought to myself. I decided to ignore it and be happy that I got food at all.

When I finished the apple I reached in and pulled out the last thing in the bag. It was long and hard and I realized that it was a candy bar. I ate that thankful for the small mistake he seemed to have made. I sat for a few minutes letting my energy come back to me. 

It wasn't much but it was still enough. I noticed he was drunk, like really drunk, he could barely walk straight. I waited about 15 minutes after I ate to get up enough courage and walk twords the stairs. I stood there at the bottom of the stairs almost hesitating but not quite. Slowly walking up the stairs, pausing to make sure I made no noise, I realized that he locked the door everytime he left. 

I crossed my fingers and hoped he didn't lock it this time. When I reached the top of the stairs I placed my hand on the knob and turned it.