The Basement

Chapter two

The house is bustling with people again by three o’clock and by then everyone seems to have forgotten, or chosen to ignore the events of last night and for that I am thankful. Despite not having anymore answers to my itching questions, I am happy to have everything back to normal. Its easier to sneak around when no one is thinking about you in one way or another.

For hours I sat in limbo, biting my nails and watching the clock, with every minute I wondered ‘had he taken the note yet?’ but I wouldn't let myself check, I made a deal with myself that I would wait until tonight, when everyone else is in bed. A crash from below shakes the window-glass and I shoot upright. A voice muffles a cry of rage from beyond the destruction and above that, the sound of my family gathering in urgency at the door deafens me into a state of awe. As everyone dashes about to seal the door I walk to my room and close myself in, covering my ears uselessly against the racket hoping to escape it all. Even with my ears plugged, I can still feel the floor shaking beneath me and I picture the boy in a vicious rage, clawing his way through the floor into our house, and exacting his revenge upon us all. Images of death and gore assault my mind and I cry out in anguish. Unable to bare it any longer, I speed walk to the door to help my family, letting the images propel me forward, forgetting any and all questions of his character or theirs. The shouting gets louder and louder as I approach and as I round the corner I realize that the crashing is coming from the door and there is another voice mixed in with the ones I know. Frozen, I watch as my grandmother stands back, wailing prayers over the frantic group while my uncle holds the door shut with his entire body. My cousins, all much older than me, and my aunt dash about screaming orders to one another that go unheard over the chaos and collecting large furniture to barricade the door. I look for my mother but she isnt here. Out of the rumble, someone shoves me and I begin to bustle about in attempt to help, blind with confusion and fear. I throw my body against the door as it rattles and shakes, the force of the attacker surprising against the two of us. One hard blow sends me flying back and as I step aside to get a better angle, the door pushes open and I am met with the eyes of the boy. They are full of fear and desperation not anger or venom and he silently pleads with me for a moment as I stand frozen.

“Ellinor!” my uncle calls to me and with hesitation I place my hands back on the door and push with little effort, stunned by what I have just seen.

“Let it open! Let it open now!” My aunt shrieks, her hands clasping a lighter and a bottle of hairspray. Uncle Fynn backs off so that the door falls open just enough for her to light the spray and cast its flame into the opening. I cry out but it isn't only my cry that sounds and the door slams shut as he backs off from the other side. Tears fill my eyes, as he screams in pain, burnt badly by the sound of his anguish.

“I can't take it. I can’t be a part of this "I sob,  running to the kitchen where I curl up in a tight ball and rock myself, waiting for the screaming to end. When it stops at last, it is replaced by cheers and laughter as my family celebrates their victory, their attack…

The boys face is scarred in my eyelids, with every blink I see his eyes, wide and desperate. His cries ring in my ears. I stand and heave out breaths trying hard to gather myself but its useless. I storm back to the door where my uncle screws the chain back in place along with a new padlock from which the shiny gold key hangs. Uncle Flynn removes the key when he is done and holds it up proudly.

“The son of a bitch won’t be going anywhere, now!” he jeers. I feel a heat boiling inside me and memorize the key, its color and shape as he puts it on his key ring and then back onto his belt, my eyes glued to it for as long as possible.

“What the fuck was that?” I demand, a familiar expression of shock painting everyone's faces but I don't care.

“That was what happens when you try to fuck with this family!” My Cousin Jake throws a fist in the air, his face showing his age of forty but his grin that of a child of whom has just won a glorious game of cops and robbers.