ELEVEN

5. CALL TO ME

The bed felt colder than usual, the storm was still bellowing as loud as ever and the clock had just struck 12 am. An hour ago, I sneaked back into my room through the window. I had been laying in bed for an hour with no sleep in my eyes and adrenaline still soaring high from the chase back home in the rain.

And this, dear readers, is where I made one of my most careless decisions in life.

Dad was asleep. And the basement door was open. I had promised the girl next door that I would be brave. I had promised myself.

And I knew, as I got up from my bed that day, inching quietly downstairs, that in this life, I am going to make some decisions, fully knowing that they are stupid, aware that they are risky, acknowledging that it will take all my will power not to back down. But I will make them. I will make those decisions, no matter how scary they seem, and I will follow through with them.

Some will end in adding scars to my skin and some will end in untying my shackles a little further. But that was a gamble I was ready to take. If my only shot at the truth and at freedom is recklessly taking every chance I get at fighting for myself, I will take it.

I will learn the truth and free myself. I will live for myself. At whatever cost.

Only if I knew then, how huge of a cost that actually would be...

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I've lived in this house for 12 years now, and this was enough for me to not need the lights switched on to know my way around the house. But the fear in my heart grew louder than the thoughts in my head. It was all a blur. This was the biggest risk I had taken yet. And going down this path meant taking many more.

My hand reached outwards and the skin of my palm came into contact with cold metal. My fingertips brushed against the handle to the basement. I took a breath in, but I still felt like I hadn't been breathing.

The door creaked open and I switched on the torch settings on my phone. Reminding myself to keep taking deep breaths, I set my feet, one by one, down the steps into the basement. At the very bottom of the stairs, I looked at the time on my phone's display. 12:15 am.

Dad comes down to drink water at 1 am, almost every night. So, I mentally reminded myself to somehow make it back to my room by 12:55 am.

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I carefully moved towards the wall at the far end of the basement. The only wall that was painted blue while all the others where pearl white.

Breathe, keep breathing, please. I stood, now, right in front of the farthest wall of our basement.

I closed my eyes for a moment to compose myself. I could hear my blood rushing in my ears, the beating of my heart in the silence of the night and the storm screaming as a distant lull.

The truth shall set you free.

The truth shall set me free,

But bring me to my knees,

If I let myself see,

The truth will call to me.

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11 Polaroids.

11 faces.

11 names.

Another deep breath. I can do this. Come on.

All girls, young, black hair, similar looking.

Only problem. Eyes closed.

Eyes closed, on the floor, blood on their skin.

But why? Why?

I reached my hands outwards, but stopped inches away from the first Polaroid, too scared to touch it. A rush of a million questions invaded my mind.

Who are the girls? Why are their pictures on this wall? How were they connected to my dad? Are they.... dead? If so, where are the dead bodies?

I turned away from the wall, scanning the rest of the darkened basement and shuddered.

Actually, I don't want to know the answer to that last question.

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*Click* *Click* *Click*

I lowered my phone after taking pictures of the girls and their names. I had to find out who these people were. I knew I was getting myself deep, but now the only way out was to know the complete truth. I looked down at my phone to see the time. 12:59 am.

Shit.

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A small creak let me know that dad was coming down the steps from the upper floor of our 2 story house, where our bedrooms were, to the lower floor, where our kitchen and hall were.

The door to the basement was a foot to the right of the kitchen door. He would see my phone's flashlight shining through the cracks of the door.

So I took another deep breath.

The footsteps got louder.

My thumb brushed over the button to switch off the flashlight as my hand shook violently in fear.

This is the most fear I have ever felt. This is the most brave I've ever been. And yet the only thing I could think of telling myself was that I was so proud of myself in that moment.

So I turned the flashlight off and stood frozen in my place, holding my breath. The darkness was loud in the small space of the basement, but the footsteps outside of the room were louder.

And as time crawled by, and the softened sound of my dad pouring himself a glass of water sounded somewhere far away, I realized what was the most disturbing about the 11 blood-covered girls' photos on the wall.

...They all looked exactly like me.

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Hey! So that was a heavy chapter... But I really wanted to uncover some important details about the 11 photos before I continued, so that you understand why Lys was freaking out so much after she saw these photos the first time in chapter 2. Hope you liked reading it, and don't forget to like, comment and follow!

I will most likely be posting the 6th chapter on the coming Wednesday. See you there, please stay safe and take care and interact with me on my socials linked below!

Shr♡

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