The strange, unexpected, & supernatural

The basement (Ellie Armstrong) 3

I slept for the whole hour.  I know because I woke up to Billie on the wall again.  I sit up, wrapping the blanket around my body.

"I didn't want to wake you," he says.

My eyes veer to a container of cookies in front of me.

"They're your favorite," he says.

I shake my head.  "I'm not hungry."

There's a brief silence.  He murmurs "Fuck," and opens the container, angrily chewing a cookie. "Not poisoned, Ellie."

I crease my brows as he paces the room and runs a hand through his hair.  "It's hard to have an appetite when you've been sleeping with rotting corpses in your vicinity."

He stops, giving me a genuine gaze.  "Fine,"

I ask the question that's been praying on my mind.  "Am I gonna die here?"

"No.  This is just temporary.  Honest."

I look away.  The blanket's become thinner somehow.

"C'mon, what's it gonna take for you to trust me?"

"When you trust me."

He squints.

"I don't like waking up in handcuffs.  Or wearing them."

He remains idle.

"There's also no bathroom."

He lets out a huff, retrieving a keyring from his pocket and kneels to my ankle, unlocking it.

I knead where the metal chafed me.

"Better?"

I run toward the stairs.

"Ellie!"  He takes after me.

I make it to the door.  Locked.  Billie lifts me, and I try to fight him off.

"Ellie!  Relax!!"

I thrash in his arms.

"Ellie!  It's alright!"   He tries to soothe me, but I fight harder.  He sets me down at a point, and impulsively, I push him.

Billie spills down the stairs, his neck making an audible crack upon hitting the bottom.

I pant.  He's not moving.  "Billie?"   I tenderly step down, lightly nudging him with my converse shoe.  Nothing.  Carefully, I reach into his pants pocket and retrieve the keyring.  I run back up the stairs, trying various ones.  "Come on."  I look back to ensure he's still there.  A key finally works, and I push the door open, close, and lock it behind me, backing into a wall and taking in the fresh air.

I dash to the kitchen and grab the landline.  "Come on, pick up."

"911."

"You have to help me, my Uncle killed my parents and locked me in his basement," I whisper squeakily through my closed throat.

"Are you still in the basement?"

"No, but that's where the bodies are.  Please hurry!"

"Tell me your address."

"East 12th street," I sniffle.

"Okay, we'll have officers there shortly, is there anywhere for you to escape?"

"Umm, the front door is --"

I turn, stopping abruptly at a sight that makes my eyes widen and heart skip a beat:

Billie's standing there, just outside the basement, with the door wide open.

"Ma'am?" The operator says. "Ma'am? Are you still there?"

I drop the phone.  It shatters on the hardwood floor.  My gaze still fixated on Billie.

"Wanna know something I learned a while ago, Ellie?"   He holds up a tiny key.  "Always have a spare, so you can get out of the goddamn basement."  He deliberately drops it, then reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a switch knife.  He flips it so the blade is exposed.  "Come here, Ellie."

I slowly step back.  "Please don't."

"I don't want to hurt you, Ellie.  Just need you to hold still."  One step forward for him is one step backward for me.  "We can make this easy.  All you have to do is go back downstairs, I lock you up, and by the time the cops get here, I'm gone."

"Why didn't you do that earlier?"

He stops and his grip loosens.  "I meant what I said, Ellie.   Everything I did was for you.   I wanted to be in your life."

"You could've told me they died."

"Just come downstairs so we can talk it over for a second."

I shake my head.

"Please. It's just a talk!"

"You said they never loved me."  My lip quivers.  "My whole past has been a lie -"

"Fuck the past.  Think about now, think about the future.  That's all you need to worry about."

I gulp.

"Speaking of which.  I'd rather not spend the rest of my future," it tightens again.  "In prison."

I run toward the door, but Billie catches and throws me on the floor.   I try to get up but he penetrates my leg and I scream.   I kick him with my other and he collapses, dropping the switch knife.   Instinctively, I grab it and push the tip into his chest.  I pull it out and do it over, and over, and over, and over.

He stops moving.

Sirens wail in the distance, rising in volume.   I fall on my back, lying beside him and the stained blade clatters.  My breathing is dense.  The last thing I sense is the pool of blood that escaped Billie's body making contact with mine as I blackout.