The Boy In The Basement (Lashton AU)

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edited

Luke's POV:

My foster mum had just made me lunch in the usual Saturday afternoon. She gave me a sloppy kiss on the cheek and told me to head up and clean my room that she was having a yardsale so she needed me to get rid of some stuff.

I entered my small, messy room grimacing at the stench of my closet.

Slowly, I opened the doors to reveal a mass load of shit. It was horrid, I didn't expect myself to be this dirty. I guess that's what school does to you, huh?

I started by moving things into three piles clean, dirty, and donations. My closet had some things that I didn't even know were in there, half of the clothes there were hand me downs from my foster dad so my actual clothes consisted of 1/5 of the closet.

I made sure to reason with each thing before placing it in a pile. I didn't want my foster parents to think I'm unappreciative. Not to mention growing up in the system made you realize the worth of simple everyday objects.

I took a pile down to the front yard where she had a table "Here you go, March" she smiled sweetly at me,"Thank you dear, now may you finish cleaning your room out."

March was an older woman who at a glance seemed sour due to the worn facial features she had. Her face had creases and her eyes were hollow, but her spirit was always tender towards me.

I nodded and headed back up the stairs to my room I stayed in this home by myself my brother, Michael, was sent to a separate foster home. It was definitely hard having to part ways,but we were used to the uncertainty of being together. I write to him sometimes and he writes back, he's a little younger than me and holds the brightest soul one has ever seen.

Through out the day, I cleaned my room to where it smelt decent enough, even though the odor still stuck. Not to my clothes, but the odor that came within the house, it made my dirtiness seem clean. It wasn't a bad home, but the floors were permanently stained and the house smelled of tobacco.

I slipped off my jeans and shirt ready to go to sleep. As usual, I heard the front screen door shut close with a bang signaling my foster dad was home.He worked all day from 6 to 10, usually by then he'd just get home an sleep, well at least I think that's what he does.

I went into my bed curled up and let the blankets envelope me in warmness. Sure I didn't have parents, but at least I had a roof over my head. It was better than having to live in the streets, this thought made me unusually happy that my foster parents took me in. My mum died when I was born and my dad didn't want me because to him, I was just some highschool knock up mistake.

I heard banging and rustling from downstairs, our house was a different leveled house, so creaking of the wooden floors was heard frequently. It was kind of odd now that I think about it.

The rustling became louder and screeches were heard. Surely Frank must have found a rat or something downstairs. It appears that we been having rodent issues ever since I moved in. He is always complaining about them making a mess. The banging and rustling became a constant sound, only having a two minute silence in-between.

I wasn't sure what exactly he was doing to solve the problem,but then again it only happened once in a while. I hadn't be able to go down and see the basement because of Frank's one rule. That if ever broken I would for sure fin myself without home and that was:

Dont ever go down to the basement.

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