The Basement

Chapter 1

Finding my mum dead affected me in a way that I didn't think it would. Because I was so traumatised, from the age of 10 up until I was 16, I hadn't and couldn't speak a single word.

Since my dad needn't feel like he had to keep secrets from me anymore he showed me things that some people would have nightmares about, things that some people wouldn't be able to handle and would end up committing suicide over. I'm surprised that that hasn't affected me growing up, I was after all a young 10 year old who had lost everything. Well nearly. I still had a bed to sleep on and I still got fed but that's beside the point.

I still believe that deep down, somewhere in the man that I used to and still call dad is the man that loved and cared for both me and my mother. But for now i'm stuck in the basement next to my mums corpse. I've been down here for 6 years and 3 times a day my dad would visit me to chat about his day and to give me food, to keep me nice and healthy, he would constantly tell me if I questioned his actions.

Now I bet your thinking, how can she ask him that if she can't talk? Well when my dad found out after numerous attempts of trying to get me to speak to him, he eventually came up with the wonderful idea to give me a whiteboard and pen.

It wasn't exactly ideal but it prevented him from doing any of his dirty work.

School wise, he bought me all of the equipment that I needed and even rented out my own teacher. He didn't want his secrets to get out so he paid money to one of his closest friends who predictably enough was the head teacher to my old school.

After my dad had dumped me into the darkness of the basement, all I had to keep me company were the books that he'd stored in the cupboard beside my bed.
A few hours after, he came back and visited me, bringing along with him my dinner and behind him he dragged my now dead mother by the hair, not caring about how he treated her body.

"Hello darling" he greeted me with a smile. He placed the tray of gleaming chicken and salad on the end of my bed. He then flung my mothers body over his shoulder, pulled out a set of keys from his belt and opened one of the cages. "I brought your mother to keep you company" he placed her down onto the ground and closed the cage behind.

I was too shocked to do anything. That week he only visited to give me food and collect the left overs. Most of the time I cried until I had no more tears and my eyes were too swollen to make anymore.

I tried to get my mothers body into a comfortable position by squeezing my arms through the bars but I failed and ended up getting burns from the friction of the bars rubbing against the skin of my arms.

Over time he'd gradually stay longer until he would sit there and chat away for hours on end. I'd given up on trying to fight, what was the point when it only resulted in getting myself beaten to a pulp?

So this is my life, its not a life that a girl my age would choose but I've had to deal with the situation that I'm in, under certain circumstances.

I haven't had a friend to talk to for years, I have no one to turn to when I just want to cry and ask them why I was chosen to be tortured, no one to make me laugh or to cheer me up after my dad visits. Its just me, myself and i.

Tomorrow I turn 17 years old. I'm cherishing every single moment of today, my gut telling me that something bad is definitely going to happen. I'm scared out of my mind what awaits me but I welcome the feeling with open arms because that's the only emotion that I know. For months now my fathers been excited about a 'present' that he can't wait to give me and I have my fingers crossed that its not as bad as last years...

FLASHBACK

I was too involved in the lives of the fictional characters that i was reading about to even notice that my dad had announced his presence by wrapping his knuckles against the door.