The Boy I Found in my Basement

Chapter 2

"Father, why did you lock the door?" I felt my heart rate increase in my chest as fear and panic hit me. From the dim lighting of the staircase, I couldn't see anything that was in the basement. All I could hear was faint grunting and mental clanging. My nostrils were bombarded with the overwhelming scent of pine cleaner and bargain brand bleach. "Maybe it was just a habit." I tried to reassure myself. "Maybe he always locks the door behind him when he goes into the basement. Relax Angelina, you're being paranoid."

"Welcome home Angelina." His grin is so large that I think it might burst off of his face.

"Father, I think you're mistaken. I'm not even allowed to be down here. It's against your rules." I'm so confused, did he forgot to take the medication the doctor prescribed him again?

He started ushering me down the stairs. "Angelina, I am certainly not mistaken. This is home for you. Now you need to learn the rules." I would've stayed at the top of the stairs for as long as possible if it wasn't for him almost knocking me over several times.

Pushing "Christopher" to the ground to gain height over him, Frank crossed his arms. "So Christopher, you really thought you could just run away from me. You are too much like your slut of a mother," Frank scoffed.

He seemed utterly offended. "La mia mamma è puro che tu disgusto il maiale."

"Would you want to say what you just said again Christopher? Do it in a language your own family understands." Frank came super close to his face, casting a shadow on his sculpted jawline and emerald green eyes. "Now children, let's learn the rules shall we. First rule is you both will call me "Daddy" or "Father". Angelina you will exclusively call me Daddy and Christopher you will call me Father. You will do what I tell you to. No eating or bathing without my supervision Angelina. Boy, I better not see you eating a single crumb without asking me first. You will only wear what I give you. This place will be kept tidy; I will not be running a pig sty. Not following my rules will lead to a punishment of my choosing. Angelina is quite familiar with my nice belt, but I have some new toys as well." He smirked wickedly.

"Father, I mean daddy, can you please unchain Christopher?" I asked quietly. I was in no position to ask for favors but I knew how miserable I would be chained to the wall.

"Since you asked so nicely baby I will. If he's a bad boy though," He flicked Christopher's nose annoyingly playfully. "he will be punished. He unclipped him from the wall slowly, daring him to pounce. "Now Angelina you will make me dinner. If you need help just let me know. I simply can't have you burning down my beautiful new kitchen, now can I?"

"You can't Daddy. I won't though." I walked straight into the kitchen, trying not to let my shock at the ambience of it show.

"Boy, you will be grasping for life if you even think of moving away from this walk before I tell you to. Got it?" A vein was very close to popping above his left eyebrow.

"Yes," he paused, swallowing a snide remark. "Yes Father."

Over in a small corner of the basement was a rather old kitchen which looked straight out 1963. A small shelf in the kitchen was filled with spices, cookbooks, and other knickknacks. The fridge, vintage stove, and cabinetry were a mustard yellow, reminding me a bit too much of my grandmother's kitchen from her house in Pennsylvania. All of the "harvest gold counters" covered chipping wood cabinets which coordinated with the rest of the theme. The matching nauseated me, but my father seemed rather proud of it.

In the refrigerator there were only staple foods, my father's natural food craze would never escape me. Vegetables, poultry, dairy, and fruit along with spices and supplies were all I could find in the kitchen. I guess I'll make a stew then, since it's the only thing I know I can make and my father won't spit into a napkin.