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“You should be. This place must bring back horrible memories.”
“No, I’m not cautious about this place or the memories associated with it. I’m cautious about how you’ll react after you learn the truth.”
If I was anxious before, then my state of mind is skyrocketing right now.
We arrive at the bottom of the stairs. I’m sucking air into my lungs as Aiden pushes the metallic door open.
Both of us freeze at the entrance.
The basement appears a lot smaller than in my memory. Back then, it was a large pitch, all dark and dirty and… horrid.
But that’s how people react to traumas. Everything is magnified, becoming bigger and scarier than it actually is.
The basement is in fact the size of a room, perhaps three to four metres length.
An automatic light shines on the dark grey walls and ground. There are no chains in the corner. Dad probably got rid of those. A lavatory takes their place.
Other than that, the entire basement is empty. Neither the walls nor the floor have been renovated; they look just how I remember them.
It’s clean now, though. There’s no smell of piss and vomit.
The air contains residual humidity and cigarettes. Who comes down here to smoke?
“Bring back anything?” Aiden’s questions pulls me back from my observations.
I shake my head and step inside. The door closes behind us.
Standing in the middle, I study my surroundings closely, trying to commit anything to memory.
This place is crowded with memories, but that’s not all they were for me. They were precious pieces of my childhood. I’ve been incomplete since I erased them.
Aiden releases my hand, and I feel the emptiness before I can see it. He strides to the corner with purpose and stops in front of the wall.
A shiver races down my spine and creeps into my soul.
Even though he’s facing away, I can almost see that small boy chained to the corner, hungry, thirsty, and bleeding.
God. I don’t think I can do this. I’m tempted to grab him and run away from here.
I want to protect him.
Actually, I wanted to protect him since that first time I laid eyes on him.
I walk towards him on unsteady legs and wrap my arms around his waist from behind.
His warmth seeps straight to my shrivelling heart. I rest my cheek on his tense back, the back full of welts and scars. The strong, strong back that never bowed down.
The onslaught of tears nearly take over. If I give in to it, and to those destructive emotions, I’ll be sobbing all the way to Sunday.
I won’t be that girl.
I’ll be the seven-year-old Elsa who brought Aiden food and made sure he was okay.
I’ll be strong.
“We can do this, Aiden. We owe ourselves that much.”
His hand wraps around mine. “I don’t care as long as you’re with me.”
