Don't Look in the Basement

Chapter 1

  Staying up late to finish an English project that was due the next day, is never what I would consider fun. In fact, I find that most people would not consider it fun. Especially if your English teacher is a psycho. Not just only a psycho ,but a scorned woman who you’ve just found out has had a huge crush on your dad since high school. Of course my dad rejected her and as punishment, once she found out I was his daughter, she decided to make my life a living hell. Apparently she’s never forgiven him for ditching her at the Junior Prom for my mother. So she’s told me about a million times.  Whenever I come in to her class to retake a test or finish work that I didn't get done, she pulls out a copy of her yearbook and flips through the old pictures and shows me every single one that included her and my dad.

 "Alice, don't you see how happy we were back then?", she begins with a melodramatic sigh, “until She came around."

  Then she flips to pictures from the prom, and goes to the one of my dad, slow dancing with my mom. Both wearing outdated 80s dress, but nonetheless they smile at the camera, and I can't help but smile too, because my parents looked truly happy back then. All I can picture of them now is the tired, overworked, stressed, and snapping at each other over every little thing, adults that they have become. In fact, I could hear them now downstairs, fighting over something that I couldn't really hear. But I knew what they were screaming about. It was the same thing that they had been arguing about for weeks. The basement.

  The mere mention of it now, made me sick to my stomach. Whatever was down there was tearing them apart. My dad used to be the sandy brown haired, blue eyed, typical American dad, who had laugh lines from all those times he used to smile at all the jokes and stories he used to tell. Now, there are small patches of grey that are starting to show up in his hair. He hardly ever smiles and he seems exhausted every day. My mom has started to look that way too. Her light blonde hair, that I have inherited, is always in disarray. After work she puts on sweats and wanders around the house wide-eyed, like a zombie, until it’s time to cook dinner. Then, as expected, she wanders up to her bedroom and sometimes I can hear her crying and pleading with my dad about something that I can never quite hear or understand. I have a feeling, that whatever it is, she can't take it anymore.

   The only reason they are arguing now at 11 o'clock at night, is because they think I have gone to bed like I've told them I would. They think if they can keep the yelling down to a minimum, that I won't hear them. But I know better and I think somewhere deep down in them, they know it too. They just don't really care anymore. In about half an hour their fighting dies down, and quietly I turn off my lamp and crawl under the covers, listening for the inevitable. Maybe forty five minutes later, I start to hear the first of the screams and I shut my eyes tight. Over the course of the next hour they start and then fade, then start again. I've considered once or twice about calling the police, but I realize what am I going to tell them? That my parents are conducting Frankenstein-like experiments in our basement? They would think I was crazy. But everything that had been happening was crazy.

   Tonight the unexpected occurs. Downstairs I can hear a door slam as my dad and mom run up the basement stairs. Startled, I jump out of bed and quietly, yet quickly, I open the door to my room and sneak outside. Using the shadows as my cover, I tiptoe to the top of the stairs. Peering over the railing, I see my dad throwing on his jacket in a hurry over his labcoat as my mom flips on the light looking for her purse. They are in a hurry and for the first time I can hear what they are saying.

  "We have no other options, we have to contact Dr. Zedler," my dad tries to say quietly to my mom, who I can tell is panicking.

  "Don't you think I know that Dan? We should have contacted him over a month ago when this whole mess began!”she is close to tears and fidgets with her keys in her hand.

"We promised him when we first started that we could handle this ourselves. I'm only quitting this now because of you, you’re going to lose it if we don't stop. I care more about my wife and her sanity then any damn experiment.” He wrapped his arms around her as she started to sob.

She pulls away, “We have to go to him now! I can't stay a minute in this house with "It" downstairs, any longer."

  "I know," he says more to himself then to my mom, as she heads to the door.

"But what about Alice?" he says concerned, “We just can't leave her here, alone."

"We've done it before.” my mom replies as she starts to open the front door.

"That was different, it was daytime. No harm could come to her." he expresses.

"She would be safer here for the moment, then coming with us now. Besides she’s asleep and we'll be back in fifteen minutes tops." I couldn't help but roll my eyes at the "asleep" part.

   Then with that they were both out the door, and seconds later I could hear the car pulling out of the driveway. Now I was even more curious. What was down there? Before I could stop myself, I headed down the stairs as fast as I could. I ran through the living room, through the kitchen, and to the basement door. Of course it was still heavily locked as usual and I frowned. Until I saw something glinting at me, from the floor. It was a key, not just any key, but the key to the padlock. I smiled in triumph as I reached down and picked it up. One of my parents must have unknowingly dropped it.

   I fit it and turned it in the lock, which then fell to the floor and clattered. I unwound the chains and then opened the door with ease. Before heading down the stairs, I grabbed the flashlight that was on the counter. Cold air blasted through my pjs, causing me to shiver, as I started to walk down the stairs, which creaked loudly. I pushed my long hair back from my face as I started to near the bottom of the stairs. I started to hear faint moans, and I hesitated and thought about running back up, but somehow I swallowed my fear and stuck to my guns, and continued down. I wasn't prepared at all for what I was going to see.

   The light from my flashlight, shone on a figure, once I reached the bottom. Looking closer, I saw it wasn't just any figure but it was a boy. A boy maybe close to my age with jet black hair that hung low over his face, and who was keeled over in apparent pain. The worst part was that  he was chained up,like a dog. His faded T-shirt was torn and nearing rags,revealing pale skin underneath that was bruised and cut. Once the light hit him,he looked up with dark emerald eyes, that seemed to glow in the near dark. He looked almost as surprised as I was,and after a second or two,managed to utter a few words that I never thought I would have to hear someone say in my own home.

  "Please help me."he rasped,and in shock ,I let the flashlight drop from my hands and clatter loudly to the ground.