You're home alone.
Nobody else is in the house, the large ancient two story house, except for you. The constant noises that you make are the only sounds that echo through the air that flows in the house. An eerie silence is all encompassing, and no one responds to your cries. You are all alone. The fact is that you shouldn't be home alone. You're only two years old, for goodness sake. The adults, or giants in your infantile eyes, have left you without significant observation. Your mother and father have retreated from your house, to run some errand. They haven't called a babysitter to watch you when their gone, against all morals that are center stage for parents. No neighbor either. Your parents aren't exactly good ones, if you catch my drift. They might be the most irresponsible examples of parenting of all time. Time that has been beyond your knowledge. You are new to this world, inexperienced in all the contents of your new and young life. You can talk, but your communication skills haven't exactly progressed. Everything about this world frightens you.
But you know, despite your parents leaving you alone without adult supervision, that they do love you. After all, why wouldn't they have conceived you.
You couldn't be an accident, now could you?
The point is, that you are alone, unsupervised, and you are freely roaming the upstairs level of your home. You've managed to walk over from your own room, opening the door after much attempts to, and seeking the way to descend. At the current moment, you are standing in front of the stairs, staring down to the level below. Mommy hasn't placed an appropriate child gate to prevent you from coming in close proximity to the stairs, but she doesn't hate you. She loves you, she just, doesn't know who to show it.
You begin to lift one foot over the other, never taking your eyes off of the next step down. Suddenly, you feel yourself falling, your weight being pulled downward by gravity, something that you don't quite comprehend with your infantile mind. A feeling of terror grips your heart, as you feel the rough impact of your weak body on the stairs. One after another, you slam into the steps, flailing your arms in an vain attempt to fly. Pain riddles your body as you near the final step, pinwheeling, spinning like a top. Fire hot, it stings your nerves, and for the first time, you feel true physical pain.
Crack.
There goes your neck.
Crack.
There goes your back.
Crack.
There go your two legs.
You scream out, as you land on the bottom of the steps, in a heaping pile of pathetic meat and shattered bones. As you try to lift your head, you feel a warm liquid leaking from your mouth, your nose, and your ears. It isn't tasty, it's bitter and tastes like metal. Red pools around your head. Your legs and arms are bent to impossible angles. Your head is too, but there's a difference, and that is that you can't feel anything in your head. Pain riddles your body, shooting up through your nerves and it is concentrated around your neck. You begin to cry, a loud shriek, but all you can muster is a faint whimper and gurgle. The warmness begins to seep up from your chest, up your throat, and it lingers in your mouth. Your lungs are being flooded with the liquid, and you can't breath. Struggling, you see an advancing darkness as your eyes begin to zone out. The screams can't come out of your mouth, as you choke.
You wonder when your mommy and daddy will come to save you from the dark, but you must ask yourself this:
How can they save you if they can't hear your screams?
