Darkness... Nothing but darkness all around me... my eyes are closed; all I see is black. But if I open them there will still be darkness... so what's the point?
A sudden loud noise upstairs disturbed my thoughts and despite my refusal to open my eyes... I opened them and looked around the pitch-black room in curiosity. I heard multiple sets of feet walking around the hardwood floor and muffled chatter discussing an unknown subject.
What's going on? I thought to myself, sitting up and continuing to stare at the ceiling. The footsteps walked across the floor, the floorboards creaking and bowing under the weight of whoever was walking in the direction of the basement door. The realisation hit me and my heart beat faster with a hope that I knew was probably going to disappear quicker than my heart's beating.
But to my surprise, the door's lock unlatched and swung open, the light from the house I used to know flooding the basement and making my eyes burn from the onslaught of illumination. I squinted to see past the blinding light and managed to see my Dad walking down the steps; following him was a small boy.
"So tell me again why your father didn't come himself?" Dad asked, holding out a small torchlight in front of him. I continued to squint, the light was still burning my eyes.
The boy looked at my father, "'e couldn't come 'cause 'e be busy wit' da circus," his heavy Irish accent made some of his words faulty, but he was still fairly understandable. Dad nodded in acknowledgement, although I could tell he was completely lost as to what the young boy said.
"Okay, well... here she is, the demon herself," Dad said, shining the light in my corner and giving me a cold, greedy stare. The boy looked from my Dad to me, and his gaze instantly changed. The serious, business-like look he tried to imitate to seem more grown-up disappeared and was replaced by a shocked stare that proved he wasn't ready for what he was doing.
"Sir... Why she wearin' a muzzle?" he asked childishly, not taking his eyes off the metal cage around my mouth to keep me from attacking my Dad again.
Dad stuck a hand in his pocket and spoke firmly, "Well, a few days ago I went to feed her and she attacked my hand like a rabid dog; so, to keep her from doing it again, I put a dog muzzle on her."
The man didn't lie. I had attacked him a few days ago; he came down to bring me oatmeal and in a blind attempt to escape I savagely bit his hand to get the keys from him. He put the muzzle on me soon after and avoided feeding me as much as possible since then. I'm so hungry...
"'ow long she been down 'ere?" the boy asked, cocking his head to the side and bravely taking a step forward. Father cleared his throat nervously as if he didn't want to tell the young child that I've been down here for almost a month now; but eventually, he answered quietly and awkwardly, "A little less than a month."
This answer finally made the youngster tear his eyes away from my terrible condition and look at my Dad in surprise. However, he didn't say anything. The only thing he did, other than stare at my father in shock, was to took another hesitant step closer to me and away from the sick man who portrayed himself as my father.
"I'm sure me Da 'as told ye da price?" the boy said after a few awkward seconds of staring. Dad nodded, shaking off the unpleasant feeling of the boy's brown-eyed stare.
"Yes, one-grand."
The boy pulled an envelope of money (I presume) from inside his slightly tattered black coat and, after opening it to check and see if the money was all there, handed it to my Dad, along with a folded slip of paper. Dad took both tenderly in his hands; he examined the paper for a few seconds before taking out a pen from his coat pocket and signing it on his thigh. He handed the paper back to the boy and a small, satisfied smirk crossed the man's face as he admired the sight of all the bills in the envelope.
I felt my heart throb painfully as hurt and betrayal overwhelmed me. I glared at my father but Dad never even looked at me as he went to the furnace and untied the rope that restrained me. He then removed it from the bonds around my wrists.
As soon as I felt the rope being removed, I darted up off the floor and scurried to the boy in an attempt to be closer to that feeling of safety that emanated off of him. He seemed confused at first by my actions; mentally questioning why I wasn't mauling him like Dad said I would. Dad turned to the boy and looked him seriously in the eyes.
"Now, Reggie, don't take those bonds off until your safe with your father. She can be misleading and dangerous," the man warned. I continued to glare at him; if I were going to maul anyone, it would surely be him. Dad still refused to meet my gaze, and it made me slightly annoyed. I wanted him to see the pain in my eyes; I wanted him to realise he was making a mistake.
"Yes, sir," The boy named Reggie agreed, before gently taking my arm and leading me back up the stairs. I felt my heart beat faster as we approached the door; I just couldn't comprehend the fact that this would be my last day ever in this household. The one I've grown to love with all my heart. I couldn't even take my doll, Amelia with me.
I heard Dad's footsteps behind me, walking slowly to make sure Reggie made it out of the house safely. The boy opened the door and just as we walked out onto the concrete steps, I looked one last time at my Dad. There were tears in my eyes once I saw that same, stoic expression that I grew up with... The expression that mirrored the lack of affection in his heart for his only daughter.