*COMPLETED* || Highest Ranking: #1 in Adventure-Romance 5/31/18
Adeline Callahan, the girl that time forgot, the one that is considered dead to the public, struggles day after day opening her eyes. She struggles day after day getting up and paci...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"He's staring at her Aberdeen heart, London eyes, Glasgow bone." –—–—
I sit still, my body no longer aching for energy. For once, for what feels like ages, I'm actually full. But who knows when my next real meal will be, who knows if I'll even get one.
The lights flicker on to reveal him standing in the threshold of the stairwell frame, staring at me with a certain unnerving gaze.
He strides closer to the cell, as I scrutinize his attire - nice dress pants and button up shirt - he stops at the foot of the cell door, his eyes never leaving my toppled figure.
"We're going out tonight, but that won't stop us from doing what you deserve, little Addie," I shiver at his cold, husk tone. The smell of his cologne flooding the air. He then disappears, leaving me in the cold.
***
I hear stumbling footsteps from above as I knit my eyebrows, confused to the sudden ruckus from above. I don't know what time it is, but neither do I care, the door to the basement comes flying open, I hear the door crash into something, a shattering noise echoing in my ears.
the shuffling feet stumble down the stairs as loud laughs and soft giggles fill the air. I sit up, puzzled as to what the noise is, but it's quickly answered when the dim lights flicker on, illuminating the small basement. On the other side of the bars stands him and her, adjacent to one another. The heavy smell of liquor lingers in the air as I internally gag on it.
She stumbles towards the lock, opening the door and grabbing me by my armpits, shoving my small 5'2 figure down on the ground, my brunette locks flying over my shoulders. They're drunk, not in their sober frame of minds.
His rough and calloused hands clasp around my arms, lifting me up as he slams me flush against a wall, my back screaming in pain as I feel something warm trickle and seep down my back and through my shirt. Blood. Blood from the still open wound I got from him and his belt a few days ago.
He places his arm over my neck, as his body towers over mine. The barrier now broken, tears come streaming down my face, like an endless cascade.
"Please!" I manage to scream, though my voice gives out as I start to choke. He pushes farther into my neck as his other hand comes up and closes around my neck too, his grip tightening with every passing second. His grip is so harsh, that it will leave bruising.
"Please what?" His breath fans across my face, the putrid smell of alcohol reeking. I don't answer him, instead I struggle for the air that's being cut off from my bronchi. I heave for it, but nothing comes into my system.
His grip loosens, and I stop struggling as I fall to the ground, inhaling and exhaling at an accelerated speed. His wife comes around him, and grabs hold of my hair, yanking at it as I let out a whimper, my hands flying up to it to try and make it free from her hold, but fail.
She snarls at me, then slaps me, my skin tingling. She then drags me back to the cell, throwing my feather like body inside, as I let out a piercing scream.
They both laugh in sync, and she comes back, placing the key in the keyhole and turning it so it's securely closed and locked, but she doesn't take out the key. She's too drunk to remember to take it out, but I stay silent.
They both stagger up the stairs, leaning on one another for support, leaving the lights on. The door shuts, and I wipe at my eyes, my vision beginning to clear again. The ring of keys dangles from the lock, staying still.
I stumble towards them, reaching my hand out to grab hold of them. The cold metal sends a shiver up my arm.
I turn the key, the lock making a soft click sound, the door slowly sways open, the hinges creaking. I stagger out, getting to my feet and clinging to the wall for support. My legs wobble from under me, threatening to give out, but I don't allow them to. I stride forward, inching closer to the stair case.
I clasp my hand around the stair banister, the rough wood giving me a splinter, I retreat my hand and wince, my hand stinging as I pull at it, but it doesn't come out willingly. I let it go, my arm falling to my side as I rush up the wooden steps and grab hold of the sterling silver knob, pulling it open.
I peer around, the living room is to the right, as for the kitchen is directly in front of me. I quickly rush over to it, pulling open the fridge. My eyes suddenly dilate to the amount of food there is inside. Fruit, thawed meat, and sauces line the shelves as beverages are in the door, tucked away.
An idea sparks in my mind as I rush to the living room and search for a bag. Pulling open drawers and cabinets, I finally find one and take it to the kitchen, piling all the food items in, one by one until the bag is almost too heavy to carry.
I head for the door, but stop in my tracks when I stare down at my attire, dirty shorts and a ripped T-shirt. I rapidly go back to the family room, and search for a coat and an extra pair of clothes where I saw some before when I was searching for the bag.
I find some, and quickly put them on, lifting a drawstring sweatshirt over my head, it immediately warms my body. Now my legs are covered with leggings, hiding the horrific scars that cover them. I pace to the door, but catch a pen and paper lying down on the kitchen table.
I grab hold of the pen, plucking the cap off with my teeth and write on the blank lined paper.
"This is what you get...for being drunk," I sign my name and drop the pen, racing to the door and prying it open. A cold breeze waves over my body, ruffling my hair.
I step off the porch stair and stride away from the house and closer to the thing I've been craving for so long.
Freedom.
___________
YAY! SHE'S FREE! Thank you for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please vote and comment! Thank you so much!
