I may never escape my demons.
I’m giving up hope that I’ll get out of here. I’m giving up hope that I’ll see Jesse again.
I slowly sit up and use the wall as a prop so I can adjust to being upright. Everything spins at first making it hard to stay upright, but eventually, it goes away. I lean on the wall as I make my way to a bathroom better suited for a prison than a home. There isn’t a door, the toilet is stained yellow, and the water in the sink only comes out cold. The walls aren’t even finished, but there is a small cracked mirror hanging above the sink. I try not to look; I really try. I turn the cold water on trying to ignore my reflection. But I lose the battle against the mirror as I see red glistening in my peripheral vision. I look up to see the damage to my face. My cheek is red and raw-looking and my eye is swelling already. I have a cut on my forehead leaking blood in a slow trickle down to my jaw. There are fragments of rock embedded into my cheek. I take the cold water and rinse what I can. I slowly pull the grit from my face, bit by bit. Finally, I stare at the beaten and bruised young woman staring back at me. The reflection in the mirror isn’t me; it can’t be. I don’t know who she is anymore.
This is why I tried not to look.
The girl before me is as pitiful as any woman could be. Her lifeless eyes are so sunken in that it ages her at least ten years. Her face is void of any emotion. She’s a shell of someone who can’t continue to feel or live. I’ve become a shell. I haven’t really fought since right after waking up down here. I haven’t attempted to free myself. This is what happens when you fall into the same old routines. For me, it seems to be a pattern of being a helpless, dumb girl.
I’ve made a few smart comments here and there, but otherwise, I’ve simply sat in here, day in and day out, listening for the click of the lock. I haven’t bothered to find a way out. I let the fight leave me.
Wait. My eyes widen as it hits me.
The click.
I don’t remember hearing the click after he left.
I peek out of the bathroom and stare at the doorknob to the entrance of the basement like it’s magical. I creep towards the door, fearing that if I go too fast it might backfire on me. As I inch closer, my heart picks up its pace. This could be my moment—the moment I get to fight back.
Please be unlocked. Please be unlocked . . .
I bring my hand up to the door and grasp the doorknob tightly. My heart is pounding now. My palms are sweating. I close my eyes, take a deep, steadying breath through my nose, and begin turning. When I’m met with no resistance, I let out the biggest breath I’ve ever held. I almost want to cheer. The first tiny bit of hope trickles inside of me, bringing me to tears.
I’ve unnerved him. He slips when he’s upset. He’s losing his control.
I pull the door open and a low creak sounds, bringing me to a halt. My chest pulses as I wait to make sure he didn’t hear me. I listen for signs of movement or anything to tell me if he’s coming. When I’m met with continued silence, I open the door just wide enough so I can slip through the opening. There are stairs beyond the door; creaky stairs that look as old as the rest of this house. It will make it that much more difficult for me. I carefully climb them two steps at a time to avoid any unnecessary noise. As I reach the top, I flatten myself to the wall and peer around the corner of the opening. The door to the stairs is wide open, which allows me to see out into a kitchen area without coming into the light. Beyond the kitchen there’s nothing but a door. But that door has enough natural-looking light peeking out from underneath it that I’m almost positive it leads outside. I glance around the corner once more, making sure the room is clear. Once I start for the door there is no stopping or looking back. I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, preparing myself for my next move. When I open my eyes again, I count to three in my mind. On three, I run. My eyes are solely focused on reaching that door. And I do. I reach it and grab onto the doorknob. The relief that I’m nearly out threatens to overwhelm me. I’m almost free.
I open the door and allow the warm sun to drape over me. After all this time in the dank basement the bright warmth of the sun’s rays clear some of the fog I’d gained in isolation.
But I’ve made a terrible mistake and paused too long. I hear the shuffle of his shoe before I feel the jerk of his hand in my hair as he grabs me and yanks me back. I can’t stop the yelp that slips through my lips. All the hope I’d gained when I reached the door drains out of me as I grab onto the hand gripping my hair. I try to pull out of its grasp. I turn and kick. I yank, and I know it hurts me more than the pain caused by the man that holds on to me with a vice-like grip. but I can’t give up. I have to fight. I can’t lose myself to him.
“You dumb bitch. You think I’d let you get away that easy?” Marcus growls.
He pulls me towards the stairs as I bite back a whimper. But I keep fighting. I kick at him again. I twist and turn; I’d do anything to get free.
“No. No! Help me! Help me!” I scream as try to pull away again. His hand tightens on my hair even further and the tears fall from my eyes. The hope that anyone might hear me is as bleak as my future. But I can’t stop trying.
“Help me!” I scream through sobs as I finally yank out of his grasp. I leave him standing there with a hand full of hair and make a beeline for the door. This time I don’t pause, but it doesn’t matter. He’s faster than me and is on me before I can run out of the door. The fact that I stare out into a backyard hits me hard. If it was the front there might have been the possibility of someone seeing me and coming to my rescue. But that hope is lost.
“Shut up,” he hisses. He grabs me again, pulling me back to the stairs. I grab onto the frame of the stair entrance and kick at him. The first few kicks never make contact but the last one hits him in the gut. He catches my foot as he falls against the wall and pulls me down with him. I grab for him, a stair, the wall—anything—as I lose my balance. My hands are unable to grasp hold of anything before gravity takes ahold of me and I fall. My body lands hard on the first step, knocking the air out of me. I continue to fall, meeting each step one by one, each one hurting worse that the one before it. My leg slams down and I feel a pull that slithers its way up to my hip and through my body, followed by an intense pain. It blinds me as I continue to my descent down the stairs. I roll one final time but the moment I hear the smack reverberate through my skull my eyes close.
The darkness consumes me, and relief fills me. The darkness has become a safe place.
My bedroom door slams, and I jerk my head up to see a fuming Jade in the doorway. Her breathing is ragged, her cheeks are red, and if I had to guess, she’s ready to burn down whoever is responsible for making her upset. I jump to my feet and cross the room to where she is standing, ready to hurt the person who has pissed off my sister.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Jade’s heavy breathing and silence worries me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my twin so angry before. She’s always the happier one of the two of us, but not today. Whoever wronged her must have been shitty.
“What did that shithead Adam do? Where is he?” My anger grows. I move past her. “He’ll wish he never—”