Talking and laughing was all I could hear in the darkness of the basement. I sighed running a hand through my greasy tangled black hair. I could not remember the last time, I saw any light, nor felt the warmth of another body or even a blanket. I do know is the feel of dirty old clothes that smell like the dampness of the basement that was never cleared out like most.
The one thing I do remember are the two adults who are upstairs talking and laughing with all their friends, tossing me down here two days ago without any food or even bathing products. Just me and the clothes on my back. The last time I had a full meal most people would ask...... Well.... I can't remember. The only thing I have been given have been small bread and a small plastic bottle full of old soiled milk. My 'Parents" don't care what happens to me.... They just care about themselves. They do not care if I get sick down here and die from starving or just from being down here for too long and go mad.
When they tossed me down here they said it was for MY own good but no I know better then to think it is for my own good. They just didn't want me to embarrass them like the last time when they had a party and I fell sick on one of their best friends shoes. I ended up getting a beating after that and tossed down here for a week before allowed back upstairs just to finish my chores before they sent me back down here. That was a week ago... That was the last time I had a good look at the sun and the grass.
I could still feel the pain of being kicked in the chest and the feeling of the rib breaking. But they don't care. No one cares about me. My so-called friends, my uncles and aunts, they all forgot I'm even alive. I wonder what lies my 'Parents' have been telling them. I bet it's the same ones they always told. That I was just sick or I was staying with relatives, maybe that I passed away. That would seem believable.
I rubbed my side and sat up slowly before walking over to the wash bin where I was suppose to wash my clothes but I decided against it because by the time they dry they will be ice and I would have to put them back on and freeze.
I saw the broken glass that I stole the last time I was upstairs and thought about what had went through my mind a couple of times, "would they just leave me down here like some pest they don't want to take care of, or would they toss me out back in the woods and allow the animals to feast on my dead brittle body." I chuckled humorlessly and shook my head. "They probably will just move and leave me here alone. Maybe I could pretend I died and maybe... just maybe they will move and leave me here." I thought to myself loudly.
I grabbed the glass and turned it over in the small light in the bathroom. My eyes stared back at me, broken and dull green eyes that use to be full of light and happiness and love. Now I'm a ghost of what I was.
