The Attached

Finally Free

Michael eventually came to hours later. The two of us, still standing in front of him, our arms crossed, as we knew before hand he was still alive. For we had felt the pulse on his neck, and his utterly repulsive heart was still beating lightly. But we didn't want to kill him. Not yet anyways. For we had this plan mapped out, and wanted him to be in on it. For he was going to be in on it no matter what.

He stirred around for awhile at first, loud groans and moans escaping as the chains rattled some more. Our joy filling us inside as we couldn't wait for him to wake up completely. Watching his reaction to this whole thing, about to hear our plan for him. Wake up already you disgusting piece of filth!

He lied there against the back of the wall, nothing else surrounding him in the room. None of his belongings, no lanterns, no heaters. Nothing at all. A black, concrete pit with only himself in it. The perfect plan for him. A place he could never escape from. For we couldn't at all for years, even without being chained. A place where he couldn't scream, for we knew for a fact no one could hear him. A place so cold, so dark, he could die just from freezing. A slow, painful death, that's what he had in for him. This place would be worse than jail, for he wouldn't be clothed down here, or have a place to sleep. No bed, no bathroom, no shower. No food. This was the perfect prison for him, a perfect prison for an psychotic animal.

Rolling his head back and forth, his eyes opening up very slowly, as Noah and I watched him lie there looking up for a rather long time. Wondering where he was, what just happened. What was going on. But he would find that out soon enough. He shifted his head finally to meet ours, the three of us on opposite sides in the room; him by the wall where our beds once lied, and us by the cellar door on the ceiling, the fold up ladder hanging beside us.

"Hi Michael," I spoke up first, mimicking the way he used to greet us when he came down on his many visits. His expression read extremely confused, as he slowly began to sit up, peering down at his limbs the second they began to jingle. On all four of his limbs, both his arms and legs, we had bolted on the shackles that were attached to the walls, the very ones we were forced to wear when he would come down. In addition to those chains, we had added a few more as well, as they tied both his legs together as well as his wrists. The utter confusion and shock spread onto his face, peering down at his bolted arms and legs.

Sick smiles appearing on mine and Noah's faces, mimicking his the years before. But even doing this, we were not as sick as him. Never that sick.

"I don't.......I don't understand. What the hell is going on?!" He began to shout at us, not flinching at all as we knew he couldn't even stand up to reach us.

"Just a bit of 'family bonding'," Noah mocked him this time, his grim anger soon turning into a laugh, a smirk crossing his face as he seemed to realize what was happened. Although he had no clue at all. The fun was just starting. I can't wait to see his expression after we tell him.

"Oh.......I get it. You're just locking me up here until the police get here. So I don't get away, right?" He thought he had it all figured out, and Noah and I laughed to ourselves. It was rather satisfying, seeing Michael chained and tied up this time, in the very bunker we had spent years on end in. Just him and the concrete walls and soundproof ceiling, with the dirt floors as well. Nothing else lying inside, only him and the cold and the pitch darkness. The only light at the moment, the moon shining high above, not even a little lantern to lightened it up for him. He didn't deserve any of that.

"Police? What are you talking about?" I asked him next, Noah and I playing dumb as we peered at each other confused, and straight back at him. His grin and laugh he once bore completely disappearing as it faded, another confusing expression lifting up.