"Why does it look like a mental asylum?" I asked my mother.
"It's a prison."
"Are you insane? You have four children to..."
"We are your parents," my father interrupted me to say.
"You're doing such a great job."
"Emily, don't make me repeat myself. You can sleep in the car all by yourself, while we sleep inside."
"I'll decide that after I have seen the inside," I said determinedly.
There was mold growing on the outside of the institution, and broken windows scattered along the front of the building. The inside is by far worse than the outside. There is faded red splatter marks on the walls, floors, and even the ceiling. Papers are peacefully lying on the ground untouched by the dust that has piled up on them. The doors to the cells are hanging by a thread, and in the kitchen are scorch marks on the walls instead of the red.
"What were the splatter marks from?" I asked my parents.
"Blood," my father said.
Knowing that people had probably been murdered inside the building, how can my parents stand being inside this establishment? This looks similar to a war zone, and the car seems to be the safest place to stay right now.
"Let's go. We have to get to all the rooms," said my mother.
"Want to know an interesting fact? The police still haven't found all the convicts who escaped from her," said my father.
"You're joking right?"
"N...," he stopped mid response and started grasping at his throat. Before I could ask anything, everything disappeared and I remembered why we were here.
I woke up every day to decaying walls and the smell of human feces, while worrying whether our townhouse would cave in that day. I hate living in the fear that our house is going to fall down on my family and me, but it's up to my parents to actually do something about this dilemma. My parents are just glad that there is a roof over their kids' heads, but the roof also acts like a shower during a rainstorm, so I don't agree with my parents. I have had teachers ask me why I looked like a drowned cat from all the rain I walk through. I could have looked less drowned if my parents actually used our car that is going to begin to rust early from no use. How much longer are they going to keep their family in this health hazard? Not much longer due to some health inspectors standing at the rotting wood we call a front door.
"Hello, is either of your..."
"My mother is in the kitchen," I interrupted him, because he's not the first one to come around looking for my parents.
"May I come in?"
"I'm not allowed to let strangers inside."
"Emily, let him in," my mother said while walking up behind me. I moved aside to let the man in who gave me a creepy smile as he passed me. My mother and the disturbing man walked around the house discussing what to do with it until they finally ended up at the front door again.
"I believe that it's best for you and your family to find a new home," the man said to my mother while they were at the door.
Our townhouse was condemned after that day, and my parents have been looking for a new place. The search was going nowhere until my parents found one across the country. Instead of us paying to live somewhere, someone is paying us to. The current owners want the place redone. My parents are going to use it as an excuse for family bonding. Makes me so excited to live in this dreadful mansion.
The scent of mold rafted into my nose as the feeling of the cold cement floor hit me as I was lying there.
"The first two pairs went down easy. We have one pair left to check off," said an unfamiliar voice.
Another unknown person said, "Let's go find the last person we need."
"Hey, are you finally awake?," said my younger brother, Leslie.
"Barely."
"Move slowly towards me," he said quietly. When I finally reached him, he pulled me into a damp cellar that was cluttered with boxes that had reeked of rotted fruit and bread.
"Where is everyone else?"
"Ground up and being used as fertilizer for the garden in the attic," he said coldly, "So we need to get out."
"When?"
"Once the butchers get drunk again. So right now."
"Are yo...,"
He interrupted me to say, "I have been conscious longer to study their habits, Miss Comatose."
"Whatever you say, buck tooth," I said as he headed for a vent in the room. Once we were both inside the vent, blood was pooling around the two of us. Before I could do anything there was a sharp pain in my stomach, and my vision receded into the dark.
