Turning quickly, I saw nothing. Walking over to the light switch, I flipped it on to find myself alone.
Shaking the eerie feeling, I walked back over to the cabinets and grabbed a glass. As I poured the apple juice, I heard the moan again.
Slowly putting the pitcher down, I turned once again as another moan filtered slowly into the room.
I couldn’t stop as I walked closer to where I thought the noise was coming from, only to find nothing. There was no one here but me. But I knew I wasn’t imagining things.
I heard a moan.
Turning to leave, I heard it again.
Seeing a door, I walked over to it and slowly turned the knob. As I opened the door, I saw stairs that led down to what I assumed was a basement. Seeing another light switch, I flipped it on as the light illuminated the darkness.
Another moan.
Slowly walking down the stairs, I didn’t know what I was going to find. It could be anything. Many relatives lived on the property, and it could just be a cousin having a bad dream or something. But as I descended the stairs, I just knew. Something in my gut told me what I was going to find wasn’t going to be that simple.
As my foot touched the floor, I looked around, seeing a large open space with many disregarded belongings. There was also a long hallway off to my right that held a door at the end. Heading towards it, the moan got louder.
Placing my hand on the doorknob, I found myself shaking.
A fear I was familiar with returned and chilled me to my bones, yet I couldn’t stop myself from turning the doorknob to see what was behind the door.
As the door opened, I was faced with darkness.
I couldn’t see anything, but I could hear someone breathing as they moaned in pain. Whoever was in here was hurt. Walking further into the room, I noticed how cold it was. So much so that goosebumps rose over my skin. The room smelled funny, stale, and of urine. There was also another scent I couldn’t quite place, something metallic and pungent.
Moving deeper into the room, my eyes started to adjust to the darkness when I spotted a table off in the corner. There were instruments of all kinds laying upon it. Some I recognized. Some I didn’t know. Reaching out, I picked up a hammer. It was cold and sticky as my hand slid across the handle. Putting it back down, I noticed several dirty red rags in a small basket next to the table. Looking around, I spotted an old chair with a small table next to it. On it was a little lamp.
Walking over to it, I turned it on, and the small light barely illuminated the room, but it allowed me to see things more clearly. Looking back at the table, I stood rooted in place, trying to understand everything I saw.
All the tools on the table were red. Some looked wet with red paint. But that didn’t make sense. Why would someone paint the tools red? Even the red rags I saw earlier weren’t exactly red because I could see some white spots. But the majority of them were red. Almost wet looking.
Another moan sounded, freezing me in my spot.
It was closer now.
I wasn’t alone down here.
Slowly turning, my eyes widened as I saw a man hanging from the ceiling. He was completely naked, his body stretched out like some offering. He was covered in bruises, cuts, and gashes. His eyes and face were unrecognizable as he hung there, unable to move.
Someone had tortured him. Beat him senseless and left him to suffer. Who would do such a thing? No man deserved to be treated that way. And though I wanted revenge on the men who hurt me, this was even too much for me.
This was something I couldn’t condone.
It was one thing to want revenge but blindly torture another human being. Taking a step closer, the man opened his eyes and I stopped.
Gasping for air that wasn’t there, I stared into the eyes I had seen before. Eyes so evil they haunted my nightmares. Eyes that laughed as I screamed, begging him to stop. Eyes that destroyed the woman I used to be.
Shaking my head, I refused to believe what I was seeing.
I refused to believe that while I slept upstairs with my son, the very man who treated me so vile was just mere feet away from me.
I refused to believe that the man I loved would knowingly bring me to a place where the very man who raped and beat me was alive.
I refused to believe that the family I loved and respected would keep a man hung, beaten and tortured in their basement.
I refused to believe it all.