The Boy I Found in my Basement

Chapter 4

"If only your brother could cooperate like you do muffin, that would make me oh so happy." He said as we walked towards an armoire.

Swallowing bile and my pride, I nodded.

He continued to baby me as he dug through the armoire. "I have a beautiful dress for my beautiful girl," he handed me a hanger with a frilly red dress adorned with ruffles and lace. "and a handsome outfit for my handsome son."

I took the hanger and waited expectantly for him to leave. There was no way I would strip down in front of my father and the strange arrogant boy who had replaced my brother. Instead of leaving, he drew closer towards me. Unbuttoning the top set of buttons on my night gown, he left me completely exposed, aside from a small lace bralette and my underwear.

My face flushed crimson as he put his warm, thin fingers on my hips. "Daddy, what are you doing? Did I do something wrong?"

He chuckled as he lowered his grip down onto my pelvis. "You didn't do anything wrong muffin. I never knew you were such a ravishing little lady."

His eyes had a ravenous look in them. Almost as if he was hungry, except not for food. I could tell his animalistic desire was for me. I wanted to run to the bathroom so I could repeatedly vomit, if I knew where that even was. But I can't do what I want anymore, that right has been stolen from me.

The dress was pushed over my head, knocking me out of my thoughts. He sat me in front of a mirror. I didn't look fifteen, I looked twelve at the oldest. He yanked, pulled, and fluffed until it was to his liking and then turned an oval body length mirror towards me.

My appearance was never really the most mature. My breasts were pretty much non existent so I never could fill out a real bra like other girls at school. All the other girls I knew were curvy in all the right places. I on the other hand have the stick straight body of a nine year old boy. My sandy blonde hair although long was, in my opinion, far from pretty. No matter how hard I tried it would just do what it wants. Instead of being tied in a knot on the top of my head, it was intricately plaited into two braids.

He took my hand, more fatherly this time but I could still sense his perverse desires. We walked to the kitchen where there was a circular table set up with a vintage blue floral tea set on top of it. He pulled out a chair.

"Sit here baby cakes. I'm going to fetch your brother. Oh this will be just lovely!"

As I waited I looked around at where I would be trapped for god knows how long. He had went above and beyond to remove anything from the current decade. I had always known my father to be an incredibly detail oriented person. He could never just "kinda sorta" do something; he had to go all in. For what I later estimated to be ten minutes, I thought about nothing in particular.

"Christopher, thank you for joining us for tea. Sit right next to Angelina, and then we will begin." My father brought back the look alike boy dressed in a beige checked suit jacket and coordinating trousers. He had a black tie knotted around his neck and a weak attempt at a fake smile.

"You're going to have to try harder than that if you want to convince him that you're okay with this." I thought with an internalized smirk I wouldn't dare let show for fear of being disciplined by my unstable captor and father. All of the few friends I had while I was free (wow that feels weird) thought I was such a Daddy's girl and a goody two shoes. They didn't know what it was like to be beaten senselessly.

They didn't know what it was like to be told to go on your father's lap so he could smack you with his belt until your skin would bleed. They didn't know how one second he would be an odd but happy family man and the next second he would transform into a violent monster. One breath in the wrong direction was your biggest regret as you bit your lip to keep from crying out because you knew that if you dared yell a belt would be the least of your worries, for yelling meant that you liked it and if you liked it it clearly wasn't working.

"Angelina, are you okay?" My father stroked my thigh underneath the skirt of my dress.

No. An odd foreign boy is sitting next to me is pretending to be the boy who died in front of me and my father is caressing me in places a father should not touch his teenage daughter.

I swallowed. "Yes, I am fine."

"Angelina, do you want me to get you some water? You're looking rather pale, like," the boy's thick accent stopped abruptly as he racked his brain for the word. "un foglio."

Father, I mean Daddy shook his head disapprovingly as a much more natural sounding tongue reemerged.

"A sheet" the faux Christopher corrected himself.

Father nodded.

"No thank you. I'm fine, stop worrying so we can enjoy our tea."

Tea was poured, uncomfortable small talk was starting to be exchanged. Luckily, he wasn't speaking to me yet.

"Christopher, aren't you glad to be back home with Angelina and I?" Father placed a small tea sandwich on my plate before serving himself.

"Yes, I, I really missed you both and, I regret trying to runaway from our family."

I took a bite out of my tea sandwich, almost devouring the whole thing.

"Thank you Christopher. Angelina we haven't had an afternoon tea in so long that you've forgotten all the etiquette." He said as he elegantly placed down his tea cup.

My mind was numb with submission and (to my misfortune) whenever things were running too smoothly my mouth would run ahead of my mind.

"I-I was just eating a sandwich Father, Daddy sorry. I didn't place my elbows on the table, or slurp the tea, or cut off proper conversation,"

He then proceeded to cut off my proper conversation. "No need to get defensive muffin. It's okay to be rusty, I'll teach you again."

"B-but,"

"Angelina Claire Luna, this is getting quite childish. I expect much better from you or you will be hurting to sit down. Do you hear me miss?"

I sighed, there was no way I could ever win in an argument against my father. I really don't know what has gotten into me.

"Yes Daddy. I'm sorry I fought with you."

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Christopher smirking subtly, as if he knew I could see him. Although I knew he wasn't old I had a yearning he wasn't the age of my brother. He seemed much too collected when talking to me, like someone of importance who actually was of high class and not just someone with a head the size of a hot air balloon.

"Both of you haven't formally dinned with me in quite a while, which I blame your whore of a mother for. However my children, it is time that we forget her. Forget everything she said and did. Forget what she looks like. For your benefit, forget she existed." Daddy said.

I tried to sneak a glance at the boy to tell him how bizarre all of this was even for me but he just smiled, hiding all emotion with a wall of stone. Where was the boy from this morning?

Daddy raised a tea sandwich in the air, making sure we could both see his dramatic gestures. "Ladies especially need to be conscious of this, so Angelina pay attention. We do not simply gulp down our food in one bite. Civilized people dine in small bites, as to not seem rough and low class."

The boy bit of the corner of his sandwich, chewing slowly as if it was painful.

"Good job Christopher."

More tea was poured, until a loud ringing sound came throughout the kitchen. Father didn't explain, he walked into the kitchen and glanced at the clock. Somehow stopping the noise, he reentered the room.

"That sound marks the end of our tea. Angelina, clean this up for me darling." He went up the stairs rather quickly, locking the door behind him.

He was gone for awhile, leaving me with me thoughts. I never thought I would wish he hadn't left.