Cold Hands

Memories Of Time part 3

"Kaylee Harrison, to the principal's office now." The speaker informed the entire school. My lips tightened into a straight line as my brows arose from shock. Every pair of eyes darted to me. I slowly made my way to the office, rethinking every course of action and every word I sputtered throughout the past weeks. If I'm in serious trouble, my mother and father will never forgive me. Just yesterday mother and father got into an argument so putting more trouble on them will lead to further consequences. I'm still shaken from last night. My mother was smoking again and my father had a packet of cocaine spilled next to him from last night. That's nothing new but whenever I do something bad or get in trouble...

I get put into that scary room. A dark gloomy punishment basement with nothing but dim light, sometimes I stay there for a day or two or in worst case scenarios weeks. I get to see my mother every thirty-minutes when I'm on time out. Mother would be holding a sharp blade that had rusted from the residue of my blood. Whenever my parents argue or have a bad day they take their anger on me. In solitude my eyes would be covered with a smelly old cloth that we used to clean vomit with. My hands and legs would be tied with a prickly rope, so my mother could gruesomely cut me, piercing my skin whilst I screamed and begged her to stop.

I've grown accustomed to getting physically abused. It felt as if I was stuck in a heavy blanket; suffocating me. I was a hopeless child scared from the outside world, and trapped herself deep into a dark abyss. As much as every part of me was aching to leave- I couldn't. I was a child fearful from the daunting outside world. Most of my days in the crippled basement were alone without food and water. I wasn't given a good meal, though it was enough for me to survive. Every twelve hours, I'm given a half glass of water that's filled with bacteria- eating amoeba and a slice of cold, stale moldy bread. Sounds disgusting but my hungry and empty stomach would think otherwise. I would eat anything at that moment. Anything so disgusting could be considered so lovely in a state of need. Sometimes I wouldn't even get a slice of bread, at times I was treated not so different from an animal.

"Screw a slice of bread, how about we make things more interesting!" My mother exclaimed as her face lit up as she was grabbing her lighter out of her bright red coat.

"You know, these past few days. I find myself enjoying survival shows, and isn't it just so god dang thrilling to see one in a state of being barely alive?... I want that thrill once more, not watching it from the television with actors but with a real human life, right here, right now. I want to see my own daughter, Kaylee scream for her life." After those words escaped her lips, a wave of exhilaration washed over her, almost intoxicating. I was terrified, I don't think I was speaking to a human anymore... but a demon that ascended from Satan's palace deep down in the core of the universe; flaming with fire and filled with nothing but hatred.

'Bout time, this child is so useless, our past punishments were nothing but completely useless." My father mutters as he chugs down his fifth bottle of beer.

"Well... There's been a rat problem in the house, how about Kaylee finally being useful and clears up the problem." My mother suggests while exhaling the smoke and putting the cigarette back into her pocket.

"Hey you know Kaylee, there's a dead rat in the middle of the living room. We don't want to throw it out as the neighbors are so nosy and word getting out about the rat problem in our house will bring us to shame. You wouldn't want that would you?" My mother smirks as she tries to hide her excitement for her next sentence. The pause dwells deeply. My mother takes a few steps closer to me; each step echoes throughout the room. The intensity of her presence makes me tremble in fear, and my cold hands turn hot in sweat.

"How about you be a good girl and... eat the rat?" Mother declares in joy barely being unable to hide her excitement. Her eyes were aglow with tremendous thrill. Father's eyes grew wide in excitement while my pupils widened in fear. My heart was racing in fear and theirs in joy. Was this a show for them? Am I a doll that you could simply torture? NO! I'm a person, I was a child... A simple kid wanting to be happy and loved by her broken family.

"My honors of bringing the rat here for my 'princess." Father announced, with a tone dripping in sarcasm. He left for the briefest moment, and honestly I've never seen them so satisfied in their dysfunction. Pain was nothing new to me. Every session of torture blurred together, dull and familiar. I'd grown used to it, learned to brace myself and endure. But this—this was different.

My lungs gasping for air as my heart screams in agony, the air tenses when I hear faint footsteps approaching closer and closer to me. My mother slowly unties the rope on my hands. What was she doing? Why is she untying me? This never happened before... Thoughts circled my head like a toy train, till I felt it. A dusty cold matted fur, a squishy small body . The greasiness feeling my hands felt, the smell I had to endure- a strong musty odor that made my stomach churn.

"AHHHHHHH! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! PLEASE PLEASE- IM SORRY IM SORRY."