She was falling, but it wasn’t slow motion like in the movies. As he twisted the skin of her upper arm, he pushed her with as much force as he could muster, no hesitation, this was intent on causing as much pain as possible. Down the stairs into the darkness, she was falling hard and fast. No chance to find a railing to catch herself. He was trying to break her neck; she was sure of it. She felt her head crack against the hardwood at least five separate times. Each time a surge of pain ran through her spine, sharp yet with an underlying burn. Her right knee copped a hard smack that felt like her kneecap shattered into a hundred pieces. Her left ankle twisted into an unhuman angle, leaving swelling and pain that prevented her from putting any weight on it. She counted the steps as she went down. Nine, nine steps in total, all made of hardwood. Raw and unapologetically sharp.

 

It was dark and smelled like musk. She needed a light; the darkness was unsettling. She hated the black, it always brought back memories, bad memories. She felt safer with the light on. When she was little, she remembers the noises in her cupboard. She would scream, her mother telling her there are no such things as monsters. But it came out in the dark. Those red eyes and blacker than black shadow haunted her every night. Her mother wouldn’t let her leave her light on, so she stole a night light from a friend’s house during a sleepover.  She used it every night and didn’t see the shadow with the red eyes again. She heard the noise in the cupboard though, but the scary shadow stayed away.

 

Using her hand, she hopped to the wall and started wiping her hand over the wall in a swooping motion, looking for a light switch. She hobbled and tried not to use her left foot as her ankle swelled and the pain ebbed and flowed every time that she put any weight on it. It must have taken her at least fifteen minutes to go over the whole room. The basement itself wasn’t that big. It was more like a storage shed for the house. It was attached to the house, but the only entrance was through the hatch she was pushed in through. And she knows he locked that with a chain. She heard that much, he made no hesitation to swear at her and call her filthy names while he was locking it. Such a gentleman she thought, what a monster, he had no reason to treat her like this. There were some shelves, she felt those while looking for the light. No switch on the wall, she hobbled to the centre and felt around but nothing. Then in a circular motion, she moved further from the centre but waved her hand. After the third rotation, she felt the slightest tap. Holding her breath, she felt for it again, and success, she must have knocked it twice now, she waited patiently and listened carefully. Then slowly she felt to her left, there it was, the jewel she was looking for she took hold of the bead on the string and pulled. Light, her saviour came streaming all around here. She felt like her heart could settle down a few beats each second now that she could see her surroundings. She hated to admit it, but she feared the dark.

She looked at her surroundings, taking in what she felt when she was searching for the light switch. She was right about the shelving. This basement was super organised, like scarily so, the corkboard had outlines of what tool hung where, and the toolbox and draws had. In fact, the more she looked, everything was labelled. It was like stepping in the basement of a Martha Stewart wannabe, someone bought a label maker and thought they should justify the expenditure by labelling everything. Who are these people? She knew some people liked things exceptionally organised, but this was unnerving. It was too organised, too clean and clear. For Pete’s sake, this was a storage shed not a crafting room. She started snooping, to get a feel for who these weirdos are. She hobbled to the tools and looked in the draws, handfuls of different sized screws and nails, little nuts and bolts. The usual tools were on the corkboard, wrenches in differing sizes, along with an assortment of screwdrivers.

 

She always wanted to learn how to build something. She remembers asking her father once, but her brother was there and kept putting his head in the way when her father explained what he was doing. When she told her brother to move her father told her not to worry about it. She was a girl so she should be learning how to clean the house and cook, boys did the building stuff. Thinking about it, she realised just how sexist that statement was. Remembering this made her angry, he had such an archaic way of thinking, didn’t he realise that was the nineties she wondered how he would have coped in this twenty-first century, where gender was… let’s call it open. But he died about a year after they moved to a new house. He may have been old fashioned and didn’t pay her much attention, but he was her dad, and she adored him. His death hit her hard, she was eight when he died. He was in the Airforce, he was gone for work so often, she never had the chance to truly get to know him. A single tear flowed down her cheek; Memories hurt.

 

Moving to her left she was faced with boxed up decorations for every season. All labelled, of course, Easter, Halloween, forth of July, Christmas all the major holidays and other occasions too; Birthday parties, Friday the thirteenth, Graduation, it seemed like there was a labelled storage box for every occasion, and inside everything was neatly tied and folded. Who does this? There’s organised and then there is bordering onto a psychopath level of organised. Was she at the hands of a serial killer? Oh god, she felt her body shake. But the colours pulled her in, she stared at the box marked tooth fairy.

 

“Mum! I lost a tooth” She screamed excitedly. “Dana at school lost her tooth and put it under her pillow and woke up with the tooth gone, but the fairy paid her money for her tooth, so she didn’t steal it.” she babbled excitedly. It was so fast the whole sentence came out as one long word.

“congratulations sweetheart, you better put it under your pillow too so the tooth fairy can come and visit you tonight”

“do you think she will?”

“I don’t see why not”

“will I get two dollars for it?”

“I’m sure he can manage that”

“and can we have a tooth party this weekend?”

“sounds lovely dear, now can you please set the table”

“ok “

Another cold tear slipped out as she recalled the next day.

“Mummy, Daddy, the tooth fairy didn’t come. She doesn’t like me” she recalled as her young heart shattered yet again. Her parents exchanged a look of realisation while mouthing explicates to each other quickly opening their wallets to look for cash.

“oh wait, it looks like the silly fairy mixed up where she was supposed to leave the money. Here you go sweetheart” her father hastily shoved a fiver in her little hand.

“umm, thanks, Daddy. But why did she mix it up? She didn’t mix up Dana’s tooth spot”

“she is just very busy I suppose. It can happen” her father offered. “But all fixed now right?” he was already walking out the door with a kiss on his wife’s cheek.

That weekend she got up excited for her tooth fairy party. But it soon dawned on her that her parents forgot all about it. Yet another mark of disappointment in her young life. Her parents just too busy to remember such trivial matters.

 

Next, her eye caught the Halloween decoration box and suddenly a flash flood of different memories invaded her thoughts. Thus, bringing her back to the night she truly understood that in the eyes of her Mother she was just not at the top of his list of priorities. After her father died her mother was so busy acting as both parental figures that after organising her brother she was frequently forgotten. Not intentionally, but still left in the far reaches of her consciousness, one example of which was rapidly shaping the adult she was to become. Her mother was essentially a good mother, she cared and provided for her, gave her encouragement, guided her with life advice and loved her unconditionally. To an outsider she was as close to a perfect Mom as anyone can get, she was just a little forgetful.  Probably because she was working all the overtime shifts that she could volunteer for, in addition to taking care of two young children and of the home since her beloved husband died.

 

“Mom, my friends at school are all going trick or treating together on Halloween this year, can I go with them?”

“Sure sweetheart just stick together and be careful before eating any candy. And only eat candy that has its original wrapper ok” her mother responded kindly while preparing dinner.

“of course. Thank you. But I will need a costume. I have an idea and it won’t cost much. If I give you the list of things that I need to make it can you pick them up?”

“if it’s not expensive then that’s fine. Just put the list in my handbag ok” her mother smiled at her warmly.

“Cool! Thanks, mom” She hurried and put the carefully written list in her mother’s handbag as instructed.

She needed up having to ask her mother every day if she has picked up the items so she could have time to make the costume. Although she could see the guilt on her mother’s face each day as her mother admitted that she forgot, she was still hurt. She had carefully thought of a costume she could make that was not expensive and didn’t require any other help. And every day her mother came home empty-handed despite the constant reminders, her heart broke a little more. About 8 days later her mother came home all excited.

“I got the supplies you asked for. I was looking for my purse and saw your list, so I put it on my windscreen, so I had to see it on my way home.” Her mother was so excited that she remembered and did what she was asked 8 days ago.

“umm, mom, Halloween was last night.” Her voice strained as she tried not to cry.

“Oh, sweetheart! I am so sorry” Her mother slowed as the realisation hit her that her daughter did not go out with her friends last night because she had no costume.

“It doesn’t matter”

“I’m so sorry though. I guess at least there is next year, and you have all year to make the costume plus you have the supplies now”

“yeah,” she mumbled as she took off upstairs so her mother could not see the tears streaming down her face. She stayed home while all her friends had gone out last night. It was fast becoming a theme where her mother forgot to buy the things she needed, sign school permission slips and just generally anything in her life. She decided that day to get a job because at least she could rely on herself.

As she hobbled past the shelves with all the boxed decorations a shiver etched its way down her spine. Like a cold finger tracing each vertebra, it slowly made her uncomfortable as she tried to shake it off. The unease settling in her stomach. Listening out made no difference, she couldn’t hear a thing. She’s not even sure where she is really. The last thing she remembers is getting in her car at the gas station, then she was being dragged through a house by her hair and practically thrown down the stairs into this mildew smelling cellar. Granted it’s neat and organised, but that was just making it all the creepier for her. Who is this precise; it’s just not normal. Maybe the guy yelling insults at her hit her unconscious as she was getting in the car. He could have then taken her to his house and thrown her in here until he comes back to hurt her more – or even worse. A tear slipped its way down her cheek. As she looked for somewhere to sit, she lamented what she has waiting for her at home. Just her cat. No great career, no partner, no social life. She sat on a chest next to shelves labelled Pool Supplies. It was pool noodles, blow up toys and assorted water-based toys to use when playing games in the pool. And chlorine, she could smell it so strongly, she was practically tasting it in the back of her throat.

 

She began thinking back to a time when she still had self-confidence, believing that she was somewhat important to her friends at least. She understood that her mother loved her but was also far too aware that she was not a priority. Her mother once tried to explain that since her father passed, she was trying to be both the mother and father for her brother because her brother needed that extra support. She was made to feel her feelings didn’t matter. Or at least that’s how she interpreted it.  Her belief that she was cared about by her friends was shattered one fine summer day at the beginning of summer break. She was about seventeen and looking forward to the break from school. High hopes of summer fun with her friends. On the second day of her break, she called all her friends, but none of them answered. She thought that was a bit strange, because she was sure they all said they were staying home this summer, and all wanted to hang out. Being such a nice day, she went for a walk in her local neighbourhood. As she walked past her local public pool, she heard the shrill screams of fun followed by fits of giggles waft through the air. When she went to the fence to look her world was shattered in an instant. There was a small group of girls splashing around in the water without a care in the world. The thing that stung so much for her was simply the fact that her “friends” had ignored her calls and were all hanging out together. But not one had bothered to invite her. As she bit back tears, she felt her heartbreak slowly with each sound of laughter emitting from the others. She ran all the way home and cried until night. When she had no tears left, she sat in her room looking at the blank walls lamenting on the reasons why she was not included, and what she may have done to be shunned. Halfway through summer break one of her supposed friends came to her house to see her and after what turned into a screaming match it was revealed that most of the girls had agreed that she was high maintenance because she was always so needy. She needed constant reassurance with everything, and the girls just simply found her to be exhausting. They felt sorry for her but didn’t want her moods to dampen their vacation time. After that day something inside her snapped and she became an empty shell. She threw herself in her schoolwork and stopped going out altogether. Her grades improved dramatically, and her college opportunities opened with scholarships. And while she seemed to be preparing for life as an adult in all academic areas, her mental health took a beating. She didn’t let it show on the outside, but her isolation blurred the lines between the fantasy world she created and the reality she was living. While in college she often seemed to miss time. Drifting through the campus between her classes, her job and her dorm without memory of the journey itself. After college, it just got worse. She felt like she was constantly on autopilot. She didn’t try to talk to people because of those words from when she was seventeen stuck to her inner being. Like they were etched into her soul with a hunting knife. She was needy and draining. Unwanted. A burden. So, she chose to stay quiet and just concentrate on her job, then go home to her empty apartment and read or just sleep. She was essentially just existing, without a purpose. And that’s all she has been doing for the past six years. No friends, no work colleagues to speak with, no partner, nobody. She lived two states away from her mother and brother and only spoke to them on the phone at thanksgiving and Christmas. Her mother sometimes even remembered to call her on her Birthday. And she would pretend that she was fine, just busy building her career. And although she was brilliant at her job and earned a great income, she was hollow. She lived like she was waiting to die. And she began to realise that more and more often she would have large gaps in her memory. A black shade was drawn over her mind leaving her with many unaccounted hours each night.

 

She was shivering now, but not from the cold.  It was an equivalence to a king tide of emotions, surging towards the surface, like a volcano that had lain dormant for ten years. An unfamiliar noise vibrated through the room, her brain slowly registering the fact that this was her making this unfamiliar wretched sound. Sliding from the chest and curling into herself on the cellar floor she released all her anguish, she let it wash over her until no sound was left. Her body twitching on the floor while her mind kept repeating those same words over and over, Why me?! Since her father’s death, she has been going through her life feeling like an unwanted and inconvenient thorn. Even if her mother was never intentional with her neglect, it still occurred. Her friends to gutless to tell her that they felt she was too negative for them, not giving her a chance to become self-aware and work on her self-esteem, rather adding to the negative feelings. And now she is laying on a mildew ridden cellar floor, curled in a foetal position trying to physically hold herself together. Just waiting for the monster upstairs to come back and hurt her further. Maybe if she was lucky, he would just finish her off and put her out of her misery. What’s the point of existing if you have no purpose when you are no use to anyone? The worst part of it all is she doesn’t understand what she did to deserve this. She keeps to herself. She hasn’t interacted with anyone outside of necessity for more than 9 years. She doesn’t know the man that threw her down these stairs today. Why has he chosen her for his vicious game? Was she wearing a label screaming ‘Pick me I’m worthless anyway?’, and now she had to wait for him to return, her memories eating her from the inside. She was slowly becoming the empty shell she has felt for so long. At least when he comes back to finish her off, she will not have to endure it for long. Her body will break with each torn tendon, each broken bone, caving in on the empty carcass, and then she can just cease to exist. It’s probably better this way anyway. She tried to be a good person, quiet and low maintenance, but apparently, that wasn’t good enough either. She was still picked by a random stranger to become his victim. She honestly doesn’t understand what she did though. Did she bump into him at the grocery store and not say sorry? Accidentally cut him off in traffic? She would have just like an answer as to why she deserved to be discarded in such a violent and careless manner. Maybe she will be brave enough to ask him when he comes down to the cellar to retrieve her. Maybe he will grant her that as a twisted gift. To know why she deserved this much hate.

 

After what felt like an eternity, she heard a noise. There was some commotion outside the cellar door, and she could hear the chains being removed from the door handles. Did he bring others to help torture her? Or did someone hear her cries as he threw her down into the darkness? The noise sounded frantic, each movement was swift and focused until the doors hauled open letting the sunlight reach in like strong fingers, reaching out to her offering false optimism. Then footsteps urgently moving towards her, taking two steps at a time. Nine steps – she knows because she counted, the feet only landing on four of them until they reached the floor. She turned her head to look at her abuser, only it wasn’t him. A uniform. It was the police; they were her to save her. Maybe they could find out why he targeted her in their questioning him. She smiled a small smile at her saviour. But something was off. He wasn’t smiling back, in fact, he looked angry. Why would he be angry with her? She was the victim. She scrunched up her face in confusion as she slowly tried to get up off the floor. Clinging to the chest she puller herself up never taking her eyes off the officer. He had his gun drawn and began yelling at her. She was so confused, her mind searching for answers. She heard her name, but the next words didn’t make sense.

“You are under arrest for the murder of…” he mentioned two names, only one familiar. Her Manager’s name, the other was apparently his wife. She was so confused. The man who threw her down the stairs was yelling at her calling her a monster. Screaming at her, yelling that she was responsible for him finding his parents stabbed over thirty times each. It didn’t make sense. She doesn’t remember. As the officer roughly twisted her to face the wall, he wrenched her hands behind her and decorated her wrists in cold hard metal, all the while talking, informing her of her rights and advising of speaking with a lawyer. She looked down at her shirt wet with blood, her hands covered in crimson, but it didn’t make sense. She kept to herself. She doesn’t remember. As her vision faded and a dark tunnel took over the voices drifter off until silence overtook. She couldn’t have done this. She was a nice person, she kept to herself, and as the darkness enveloped her, a final thought echoed into the abyss, she doesn’t remember.