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Everything is a sin in this house.
Stabbing my fingernails into my palms, I march over to the door, yank it open, and step in. A lamp is on at the bottom of the stairway, but it’s still extremely dark. But I don't bother turning the light on. I've had this punishment enough to know she's about to shut off the breaker, so I have no choice but to sit in the dark. So I rush down the steps before the lights go off to avoid falling down them, something that happened the first time I was sentenced to this punishment. I ended up cutting open my arm on a nail and still have a scar from it.
The moment I reach the bottom of the staircase, I hurry toward a recliner. It’s where I sit while I’m down here. Halfway there, though, the lamps goes off and darkness smothers me.
“Dammit.” I squint against the darkness, trying to see something, but no windows are around to offer even a drop of light, so I’m left trying to mentally visualize my surroundings.
I know a shelf is on my left, and to my right, is a wall. And I think just a few steps forward is where the recliner is.
Sticking out my hands, I stumble through the darkness until the fronts of my legs bump into the recliner. I sink down onto the chair, hug my knees against my chest, and keep my gaze in the direction of what I hope is the stairway, waiting and watching.
Waiting and watching for the other half of my punishment to come.
For him to come for me.
Haven
I'm unsure how much time goes by since I don't own a phone. I do have an old watch I found in a parking lot once. I have it on right now, but it's too dark to see the time. I can hear it ticking, though, taunting me. The noise is maddening, and I find myself longing to hear something else—anything else.
But the moment I hear another noise, I wish I could go back to listening to the clock tick.
Here he comes.
I hate him.
I don’t want to do this again.
What I would give to just vanish.
Or be able to fight back for once—
A sliver of light pierces through the darkness as he opens the door at the top of the stairway. Vomit burns in my throat as footsteps descend the stairs, slowly but with purpose.
"Oh Haven," Tim, my foster father, taunts me as he reaches the bottom of the stairs.
I curl further into the shadows, trying to become one with them. But he finds me. He always does.
“I heard you misbehaved today,” he says to me as he stands in front of the recliner with his arms crossed, the light from upstairs drifting down and hitting against his back.
I smash my lips together, stupidly hoping that he can't see me. That maybe these strange abilities of mine will suddenly make a grand appearance again and make me invisible.
“So we’re going to play the silent game, huh?” He starts to remove his belt. “Good. That means I won’t have to hear you cry this time.”
I bite down on my tongue so hard I taste blood.
He laughs darkly, the sound sending goosebumps across my flesh. “You’re amusing when you’re scared… Like a frightened little bird.” He gets his belt all the way off, wraps it around his hand, then reaches for me.
I dart to the side, hopping off the recliner. Then I run. But he shoves me to the side, and I fall down, smacking my head against the concrete floor.
For a strange as hell moment, I swear I feel hot again like I did earlier when the crazy pink-haired woman grabbed me.
Scorching.
I’m melting from the inside.
Part of me wishes I’d start on fire and take this whole damn house down with me.
