Finding Home

4

Elliot awoke in a dim, grimy cellar. The stench hit him, the metallic scent weaving through his nose, making his eyes water. There were old bloodstains, splattered around the dark cell. In one corner was a mattress and a bucket, presumably to be used for sleeping and urinating. He pulled himself up, his back resting against one of the metal walls. Where was he? Crawling through the cold room, Elliot made his way to the mattress. When he put one hand on the mattress, he noticed something unusual. There was something coming out from his hand, but since it was so dark, he couldn't make out what it was. It was long and grainy, some little frays prickling at his skin. He stumbled away from the cord-like structure, thinking it was a snake, but it followed, tugging on his hand. Elliot's childlike imagination grew as he trailed his small fingers on top of his other, feeling his soft skin before stopping at a thick, flaky substance coated with something hard. He gasped when he tried to tug at the thing protruding from his hand as it gave off a sharp pain in his palm. He felt on his other hand, feeling the same sensation he had when he tried tugging the cord with his other hand. His breath hitched as the light flickered on. Fat blobs of tears slipped down his face as he saw the horrific sight of a long length of rope attached to his hand, laced through his palm, a large hole in the centre of his hand, with what looked like dried glue around the incision, holding the rope securely to his hands. Elliot only looked away when he saw that he was still bleeding, crimson liquid zigzagging through the indents on his hands. His feet were the same, a great hole through his sole right to the top, ropes attached with glue and all. Since the light was on now, he could see what he was wearing: a light blue, grime stained polo shirt and some darker shorts and brown shoes. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he surveyed his surroundings, looking at the once dark room with fascination. Elliot's pulse started to race, as he heard a key jingle in the lock of the door. A door that was the only barrier between him and his captor. The door creaked open.
//
"Bitch!" Bella's back slammed against the wall, blood spewing from her lips. A group of five girls stood around her, arms crossed and faces scowling.
"Please stop, I'm sorry..." Bella whimpered, her body aching on the floor.
The leading girl spat on the ground next to her. "You saw what happened to James, didn't you?" She snapped. "What did you do to him you bitch!" The girl turned to her friends and whispered something to a brown haired girl next to her. Bella could only make out the words 'scissors' and 'her', the two words increasing her fear.
"I didn't do anything to James, please Maria!" Tears slipped down her face as she was kicked once more.
"You'll get what's coming to you, bitch." The girl named Maria sneered, then left Bella writhing on the floor, her group following obediently.
Don't worry, darling. They'll realise who they just hurt.
My daughter.
My precious little Bella.
No, she couldn't be back. Bella tried to banish these thoughts from her head, whispering to herself, letting the tears flow down her cheek like waterfalls.
You can't resist Bella.
I'm your mother
"Leave me alone!" She shouted and ran to her room, shaking her head back and forth as if this was a way to get rid of the voice in her head. Slumping down on the hard bed, Bella started to sob, cradling her head between her hands. Ever since James had been murdered, the children in the care home thought it was her, seeing that she was the last person to be seen with him.
Make them pay. Make them pay. Make them pay!
"No! I can't do that, I don't want to hurt anyone!" Bella shouted to nothingness. "Not again!"
//
"W-Who's there?" Elliot called to the open door.
"You're a wonderful specimen, my puppet child." A crude voice croaked, giving Elliot gooseflesh. "You'll be Puppet Girl and Puppet Boy's child, yes?" The voice called again.
Elliot shivered. "Who are you?" He tried to get up from his slumped position, but he was unable to move any of his limbs, like he had been drugged. He started to panic, his breath quickening and his eyes frantically searching for a way to get up, his body in physical strain in an attempt to stand.
"You must get ready, my creation."