Out Of Time (book 1) ✔

Memories Pt.1

His vision cleared. For a moment he felt safe, believed he was safe from harm, but the threateningly intense beating of his heart, pounding against his chest, was enough to draw him back to his harsh reality.

Sitting up he squinted his eyes as he took in the room around him. Dirty grey walls, once a shockingly bright white, were moulding and teared, with arched windows and black curtains. Their thick velvet covered in filth.

The floor was a dark brown wood that hadn't been cleaned in days. Weeks. Months? It creaked and groaned under every movement casting a ghastly echo down the incredibly long and narrow hallway.

In Carlos' mind he could see how it looked when cleaned: it was one of his daily chores to do so after all. The interior of Hell Hall was once a sight to behold but now merely a sight for sore eyes.

The teen pushed himself up into a sitting position and walked carefully down the corridor. Why was he here? Is this real or simply in his head?

As he travelled further into the house painful memories began to surface...

"You pathetic child." SLAP.

"You good for nothing ungrateful brat." THUD.

"I feed you and I clothe you. Yet you can't do a simple thing such as clean a window properly!" SCREAM.

"You filthy dog. You're lucky you have a place to live and a loving mother like me." WINCE.

"You wouldn't last a day on the streets of this Ilse. Pathetic!" CRASH.

Small tears began to fall down Carlos' face as all of the horrid memories of his childhood appeared in his head. Years of abuse, neglect and trauma.

He was only five when his mother gave him one of the worst beatings of his life: he had a broken arm and a twisted ankle. A bruised face and a scar trailing from his collar bone to his stomach. He couldn't do anything but lie down slowly starving in his wardrobe for days...

As he reached the end of the corridor his head started to throb sickeningly. He wanted to vomit from the pain, physical, mental and emotional.

A grand spiralling staircase loomed high into the air in front of him. He had fallen down all three flights of stairs when he was 11. Cruella demanded he change the light in the chandelier but he couldn't reach.

He had to go out into the town during the night to steal a ladder: a difficult feat for a small boy. Luckily he was slight and fast.

When his body came to a tumbling stop at the ground floor his mother merely laughed at his pain and payed no more attention to him than that.

He couldn't take it any more.

His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, his body shaking with the years of silent pain and grief pouring out through heartbreaking sobs.

"Please. I can't stay here anymore..."

And just like that, the scene changed.