The Boy I Found in my Basement

Chapter 3

I woke up at exactly 4:31 am (at least according to the vintage lavender clock on my beside table) in a pool of my own sweat; barely breathing. "It's just a bad dream, Angelina. You could walk up to that door and open it with ease. No one is keeping you anywhere." I tell myself, trying to ease my anxiety.

"It's not just a dream muffin." A voice remarked mockingly. I knew I hadn't heard it before, which scared me even further. I pulled the covers up to my nose, wincing slightly at the remains of still damp sweat that had soaked them earlier.

"W-who are y-you?" Spoke a shaky and childish voice I barely recognized as my own. The soothing smell of lavender which permeated throughout the room couldn't even soothe me.

I heard that nasty voice chuckle at my expense. "W-who am I? Why I'm your brother Christopher, sweet and kind old Christopher who loves you dearly." He flicked on a lamp that I didn't realize was there. The dim light left in the bulb illuminated a boy who looked like Christopher, except for small details.

The boy was missing the scar underneath his jaw from when he hit it on the counter top when we were younger. The boy was missing the warmth my brother had for me. The boy had a foreign sound to him, not to mention his foreign fight with my father earlier. Clearest of all, my brother was missing his bright shining kindness.

"Christopher's dead. He died just two months ago."

The boy shook his head slowly reminding me more of my father than my brother. "Not according to your lunatic 'daddy' upstairs. To him I'm your dead brother. Now, why I'm bothering to talk to you in the first place, little girl."

I rolled my eyes, gaining some of my little confidence back. "Please bless me with your sacred words O' holy one."

"I don't like your attitude, little girl. I don't like it one bit. However, I don't know what time the looney toon from upstairs will grace us with his crazy routine so I'll just let it slide. We need to get the hell out of here, especially me. Here's the plan: we observe his weirdness for a few days or so; play into his little scheme to trick him into thinking we're adjusting. Then we--"

His voice stopped suddenly when he heard what we thought were footsteps coming from the top of the staircase. The steps became louder quickly and then they were over. If you listened hard enough you could hear the quiet scuff of shoes on the ground. A clanking sound and then a small tick were the last sounds before the knob turned. He stepped into the room wearing a button down and black slacks.

He flicked the light switch, allowing me to see clearly for the first time since I had awoken. "You both are up early today." He sounded chipper until he looked at me. "Angelina dear what on earth happened to you? Are you alright?" Concern washed over his face more than I had ever seen before in my lifetime. He seemed worried like a caring father should, not a business man concerned his product broke.

As much as I was shocked I had to put on a performance if I was ever going to leave this behind. I allowed fresh tears to fill my eyes and for my body to shake slightly. "I-I had a bad dream that you d-didn't come back. I was so scared and you weren't h-h-here so I thought it was real." Part of it was true, I did have a rather bad dream. Though it followed very close to my current situation.

In my peripheral vision I could see the boy rolling his eyes slightly as I cried my crocodile tears. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to his chest. "Darling I would never leave you." He stroked his bony fingers through my matted hair.

"Promise?" I looked into his narrow brown eyes.

"Cross my heart."

An anxious yet genius thought popped into my head. "Daddy, I need to get to school."

He chuckled, crushing some of my little hope. "Muffin I pulled you out, said I would home school you from now on. I'll get you some books soon. For now we'll focus on getting ready for the day. Sound good?"

"Yes, Daddy." I smiled and wrapped my arms around him, trying to sell it. My old self would have been vomiting by now but I knew better. If I was going to survive I couldn't show how disgusted I was by him. I couldn't show my rage that he took my mother away from me, and that his carelessness killed my brother.

"Frank you have to call an ambulance. He's having some sort of episode." My mother screamed at my expressionless father through choked sobs.

His brows arched and every muscle in his face twitched. His large yet bony hands shook rapidly as he grabbed her. "You filthy little bitch this is all your fault!" He took one hand off of her shoulder to slap her across the face.

She bent down towards my twitching brother, who was now making strange respirating noises. Holding his face while his eyes were still open she cried even louder.

"How is this," she wiped a tear from her eyes to only be greeted by another waterfall. "my fault?"

"It's always your fault Alice. You're the reason why our family isn't perfect. You're the reason why I'm so 'moody' as you say it. You caused this Alice; I've been nothing but good to this boy while you lie in bed with every man in town. You've ruined him."

While my parents argued, I watched him twitch. I watched his body stiffen, his hyperventilating become struggled gasps that were desperately trying to grip onto life. I watched his weak smile as silent tears dripped down my face. I watched the joyful light that was once in his eyes be replaced by a fish like dead reflection. "Mom! Father! He's not moving anymore."

They rushed over to him, my father was there first by his side. "Father I don't know what happened. He just stopped." I cried for the first time in years.

I had only cried two times in my life. Once, when my father found my mom cheating on him with our physician and when I saw my brother die before me.

My mother tried to pull me close as she cried with me. "It's not your fault baby. You didn't do anything." She pet my hair as we tried to process what happened.

Steam was practically blowing out of his ears as he pulled me away from my hysterical mother's grasp and guarded me behind him.

"Get. Out."

"Frank you're being a little harsh. I had nothing to do with his."

His seemingly maximum rage level skyrocketed further. "Get the hell out of my house, you dirty bitch! Take your shit and get the hell out of my life."

She stood up trying to seem brave. "If I'm leaving than so is Angelina."

"I will call the police. I will only say this once more. Get the hell out of my house!"

Without ever saying goodbye she left. A police threat was all it took to send her heading for the hills. A mentally unstable man was all it took to keep her from her child whom she claimed she loved. Any love that was once in my heart grew cold with the rest of my emotions. After all, if all the love and joy you've ever known was a lie, than how would you ever know how to truly feel.