I'm awoken by blinding light, even behind closed eye lids it burns into my consciousness. I rolled over, stretching out as far as I could possibly stretch. I hadn't realized how comfy I was, scared when I actually came too and realized I was on a bed. I looked around frantically, almost not even recognizing my room despite it not changing a single bit over the years. My head cocks at this and as I examined the room around me. Everything that had been broken, was gone. All the books were re-sleeved and placed on the stand. Even my dirty plate was gone. How queer.. My mind then thought back to the man that had freed me from my cage, and the other two men that had accompanied him. My mother's head in the fridge. Was this all.. real? Had I just dreamed everything up? I looked at myself in the mirror to my dresser. I looked like a young woman, not a child. Maybe I dreamed of being locked in the basement too? No.. No, that.. that was all too real.
I chose to ignore it, not really wanting to face anything yet. I may have eaten, and slept, but I was still disgusting. I've lived on the basement floor for years.. and it shows. Another reason I know it wasn't a dream.
I turned on the shower, it could be centuries, and I'd still remember how to work this thing. Taking a shower, hot meal, fresh water, some sort of entertainment besides the same books to keep me going, was all I dreamed about the minute I got out. I got food, may not have been hot but, damn was it better then stale bread and on the verge of going bad leftovers. And never did she bring me junk like cookies! I guess smashing everything last night was my entertainment, cause I gotta admit, breaking all her precious nicknacks and whatnot, brought me some real joy. Now, was time for a shower. One I so badly craved.
The warmth of the water, the comfort of the closeness. It was the most soothing thing I've ever felt in my life.. that.. and looking into that man's eyes. I could almost smack myself for such thoughts, drowning myself under the water raining down on me instead of my thoughts. If mother had even seen the way I looked at him, she'd have had me hanged! I almost sniggered out in spite, a small sheepish warmth dancing across my cheeks as I couldn't help but think about the blonde haired man. Surely I only feel this way because he freed me. He is rather handsome though.. And he's got the most gorgeous blue eyes.. I got scared for a moment, at the unpure thoughts that roamed my mind. Mother would certainly have me killed.. Good thing she's the one that's dead, huh? I lightened at the thought, continuing with my shower.
I slowly crept down stairs, not sure if I was even allowed downstairs as these men still inhabited my home. I wonder why they're here, or why they killed mother in the first place. They weren't here for me, otherwise they'd have left already and taken me somewhere else. So then, why?
"I, um. Thank you. For, for whoever cleaned up the glass and.. stuff." I mumbled, noticeably at first, losing confidence quickly as they all slowly turned to me. They lounged around different parts of the living room, two on either sides of the couch and the one that freed me slouched in the chair. They only stared, making me feel on spot and unsure. The two on the couch turned their gaze on the one in the chair, me getting the sense it was him.
"And for.." My eyes flickered to the fridge for a split second, returning to the one that sat in the chair.
"- freeing me, from the basement." I stood there, not sure of what I should do next. The two watched with almost amused eyes as the other just stared, finally turning away and turning his attention back to the papers he held in his hands. I blinked. The two fainting smiling at my awkwardness. I opened my mouth, not even sure what it was I wanted or was going to say. I closed it, looking around the room as a means to distract myself.
"Why..!" I suddenly blurted out, stopping short as I almost stopped myself from talking altogether. But, well like I said, I needed entertainment after spending the last almost six years of my life reading the same damn books over and over again and staring at the Goddamn walls and rats and bugs that scurried my way. No, now I had someone other than just my mother to talk to. Not that I talked to my mother, talking to her usually just consisted of threats, sass and begs.
"-did you.. uhh.." I paused, as the one in the chair backed around slowly, his eyes boring into my soul. It was almost like he wanted me to back down and move along.. I narrowed my eyes, pushing my timidness down.
"Why did you kill her?" I inquiry forcefully. More forcing myself to ask the question than to get an answer from him.
"För hon behövde dö. Because she needed to die." I drew my head back with unexpectancy, my head then tilting with new found interest. That is certainly not English.
"That's-.. Is that Danish?" I questioned. I shook my head, his voice replaying in my head. His accent thick and memorizing.
"Swedish?" I asked, as if somehow being told the answer. In truth, what I said wasn't a lie, I read well diverse books growing up. From fiction, nonfiction, science fiction. Historical, fantasy. Language.. My mind was always thirsty for more. I'd spend hours at the library, reading what I could before finally trudging my way home. Part of why my mother believed the rumors so much, I was gone so much, so often, I couldn't possibly be anywhere else but with a boy.
He raised a brow impressed, a curt nod of his head to the side as he seemed to react subconsciously. I had so many questions, about why they were here but now also about their culture and lives also.
"So.. can you speak English as well?" I inquired. He shook his head real quick, looking away as he turned back around in his seat, suddenly over my presence. He turns his attention back to the papers. I pulled a face, not wanting the interaction to be over yet.
"Wait! Wait, but. What does that mean? For, hon, believen, dosen." I tried very, very poorly as I rounded the chair to face him wondrously. I heard a snort, sending a look to the two behind me. The one who sat in the chair gave them a pointed look, but otherwise didn't look up nor acknowledge my presence. I looked between them, all of them looked similar, in their own way.
"Are you, are you all brothers?" I asked inquisitively. The smallest among them smiled proudly, nodding before the one sitting beside him slapped his arm. It was like they weren't allowed to answer, not supposed to, or like there was some agreed upon rule that they weren't allowed to answer any questions. I raised a brow, less than impressed as I turned back to the one in the chair. He had seemed to be watching the scene, quickly diverting his eyes down to his paper.
"Hm. And I assume you're the eldest." I remark, a mixture of knowing and snarkiness. He looked up at me with narrowed eyes, but didn't give in. I looked back at the other two, but they no longer paid much attention to me. I huffed out in annoyance.
"Jokes on you. I spent almost seven years being ignored. I can go for an eternity." I grinned madly, excited by the new challenge. I turned towards the kitchen, my hunger slowly creeping up on me. The deep rooted hunger I felt for so long doesn't feel like it'll go away anytime soon, no matter how much I ate.
"Tror du att hon verkligen har varit inlåst där i sex år? Do you think she's really been locked in there for six years?" She ignored the talk, knowing she wasn't going to understand it anytime soon. Was it good, or was it bad, She didn't know. She didn't really care. She was free, and even if they were going to kill her, she was free in the meantime, and it wouldn't be her mother to do so. That thought alone, was more than enough to make her believe her death would be a peaceful one.. Even if they did decapitate her head and shove it in a fridge like it's for tomorrows pot roast.
"Verkar som det. Seems like it.."
"Och vi ska bara låta henne leva? And we'll just let her live?" The middle brother asked this time. The eldest looked at his brothers before looking at the girl who scoured the cupboards. He sighed sharply, turning his attention back to his work.
"Verkar som det.. Seems like it.."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
