r/nosleep
u/RainyDayz098
I was born in that house. I grew up in that house. And if I wasn't found, I would have died in that house. Every day I looked outside, and wonder what I was missing out on, and why.
I was born in September, 1999. Growing up, my parents always said I was a gift from God. Saying that they were very religious is a damn understatement.
Heh. I flinched when I wrote that. But they aren't here to pinch my arm and tell me swearing is a sin. I'm free to say whatever the fuck I want.
We had windows in the house, but they were always covered with wooden boards with nails punched in with my father's hammer. I always felt that there was something behind them. I only tried to ask my parents about it once.
The bruises have faded. But the memories are as bright as the sun that shines through my window now.
The house was fairly large for a 3-person family. 4 bedrooms, and 2 bathrooms. A kitchen on the lower floor. A basement I was never allowed to go into. I was told there was a monster created by Satan that would eat me if I did. Looking back, they were right.
We had a radio in the living room, but the knobs were taken off, so all it played was piano music, non-stop. Which was alright, I guess. Better then silence, I suppose. We also had one retro t.v that also lacked knobs. When this was turned on, I was greeted with a local christian show. There was only one person, the host, who would recite the bible every single day.
Almost everyday was the same.
Wake up, pray.
Pray, eat breakfast.
Play with the one teddy bear I had, Mr.Fluffy. Watch the t.v.
Pray, eat lunch.
Play again. Read my Bible, the only book I was allowed to have.
Pray, eat dinner.
Pray, go to bed.
I guess I should mention that, except for breakfast and dinner, father wasn't home. He was a carpenter or something. He would leave after breakfast, and I only get a glimpse of the sunlight coming through the door before he slams it shut.
Mother would stay home, clean the house, make meals. She would do our laundry the old-fashion way and hang them up on an clothesline outside. This was when I would be locked in the living room.
I never once was allowed outside.
I couldn't figure out why. There didn't seem to be any logical reason. Just my parents, with a plan to keep me inside for my entire life. The only hint I got was when my parents would tell me that there were people that did not believe in god, or worshiped Satan, and that they were monsters.
The plan worked, up until we got a visitor. We've had visitors before. My parents usually knew before hand, and they'd lock me up in my room until the person left. All I had to know that someone was there was the sound of a voice that I did not recognized. That faithful day, when I was about 10. I was with my mother in the living room. I was repeating a Bible passage to her when we got a knock at the door. Mother froze, then swore something under her breath while pushing me towards the stairs. She told me to go up to my room and wait for her to get me.
I was going to, but something stop me once I turned the corner at the top of the stairs. I never got to see the people that came to the house. I wanted to. I wanted to see if they were some monster like Father had told me before. I crouched behind the wall, and peaked out carefully when I head voices. My mother was facing away from the stairs, speaking to a woman with red hair and suit.
She looked up, and saw me. I ducked back behind the corner, terrified.
"Do you have kids?", she asked Mother.
"No, not yet." She replied, uneasy.
I snuck back into my room, making sure to make little noise. I waited underneath my covers, pretending to be asleep when Mother came to get me for dinner.
The woman was gone, but Mother was oddly quiet over dinner. After dinner, when she came upstairs to tuck me in, she told me something strange.
"I won't let them take you from us. I promised"
I couldn't fall asleep that night, listening to the sounds that made their way through my window, staring at the cross above my bed.
For the next couple of days, Father didn't leave us. Staying home and cleaning a gun I didn't know he had.
Then came the banging. At the front door.
"Jim Foster! Come out with your hands up!" I thought our last name was Homes.
My Mother picked me up, and ran towards the door leading the backyard. A man dressed in weird bulky clothes with 'S.W.A.T' on it pointed a big gun at her.
"It's over Mary. Put her down. No more running."
A loud bang from the living room covered Mother's sobs as she dropped me on the ground. Another man with bulky clothes picked me up and brought me outside. The sun blinded my eyes, but the cool air felt nice.
I was brought to a hospital, where they bandaged up a cut I got from the drop. The woman from before with the red hair came to see me. Turned out her name was Kelly. She was at the house to speak about some bills that hadn't been paid. I wasn't on any records, so she was concerned when she saw me.
I've been told that, before I was born, my parents would travel the country as a sort of "Bonnie and Clyde" duo, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. When I came along, they came up with fake names that they put the house under.
The murders didn't stop. The police found some many bodies in the basement. Some of them were small, and Mother said these were miscarriages, even though some of them had trauma to the head.
During the raid, Father was shot by the police when he pointed his gun at them. He's dead, and I hope he's rotting in the hell he told me that I would go to if I didn't do as I was told.
Mother was sent to jail, and she will be there for the rest of her life. She's tried to contact me, but I won't let her have any thing to do with my future.
I'm 19 now. I've been living with Kelly for almost 10 years, and she has raised me better then Mother and Father ever did. I'm free, and I won't let them trap me again.
Everyday I go outside and enjoy the sun. The wind that blows though my hair. When it rains, I let the drops soak into my skin. When it snows, I enjoy a cup of Hot Cocoa and read a book. I have a lot of them now.
I'm free now. The physical and mental abuse I suffered is in the past. It will not define who I am.
I am free.
https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/bcvqex/i_was_never_allowed_to_leave/
