All My Ghosts

ONE

VIVIENNES POV

For as long as I could remember, I knew my dad was a killer.

I knew it in my gut. It was almost an unspoken thing. I knew it, my mom knew it, i think we were just all too scared to fuck with him.

The basement door always being locked, the sound of heavy machinery down there, the distant screams.

It's like I'm living in a dollhouse. My dad is the puppeteer, moving us around and pretending we're a big happy family.

Once when I was eleven, I had walked into the house after playing with the local neighbourhood kids on my block. I remember because I had tracked mud through the house and I was punished for it.

As I walked into the house, trying to catch my breath, pigtails hanging low, I see the basement door burst open for the first time. The first time ever.

i was a curious kid, and I knew it was wrong. I knew I'd be punished if I looked down there. But I had to look. I had to see what was going on down there, the question that had been lingering my mind my entire life was so close to being answered.

So as any kid would do, I ran to the basement door and peered through.

as I peered through the cracked door, I see a blonde skinny woman lying on the stairs, looking as if she was too weak to climb the remaining ones and escape.

I remember her being covered in blood, her arm, her stomach, her leg. almost as if she has been hacked at with some sort of blade.

She was crying out desperately, whispering for me to call someone. Anyone to help her.

I immediately froze in shock, my hand shaking on the doorknob, a million thoughts running through my head. My breathing got heavy as I watched the woman desperately try to crawl up the stairs. I feel a tear roll down my cheek and sweat down my forehead.

All of a sudden, big footsteps frantically enter my house from the back door, rushing over to the basement door.

Those sadly familiar, twisted hands grab me from behind, sending a shiver down my spine and a scream from my lips.

He quickly slams the door on the woman, covering my mouth aggressively and easily taking up half of my face with his palm.

"you saw nothing. Do you understand me? get in your room now, I'll be up there in a minute." My father said in a stern, determined voice.

And as much as I wanted to scream, or run, I did as I was told. I made my way upstairs to my room out of complete fear. Fear that he was going to do to me what he did to that girl, and fear that he was going to do to that girl what he usually does to me.

I immediately ran up my stairs crying, so confused about what I had just witnessed. This was the first time it happened. I knew my dad was a terrible, sick man, but not this sick. Not this twisted.

I was terrified I was gonna end up like one of his basement girls, his lab rats. How could my mother know and not do anything? Was she scared of the same outcome if she did tell?

After about five minutes of waiting in my room, I hear my father's footsteps. I hear the creaking of the stairs as he nears my room. I start to tremble and scoot to the corner of my bed as he opens my door, closes it , and locks it, with an eager grin on his face.

I don't like remembering what came after that.

I hate my father,  I hate everything he did to me. Everything he still does, everything he was and everything he still is.

A/N

New story! Last one wasn't really working for me, and I think this plot is SOO much more interesting.

love ya!