Send My Love to the Grave

Goodbye Memories.

"Tia!" His all too familiar harsh voice rung in the small house I once called home. But now it was merely a hollow, lifeless place that held so many broken memories. Memories that I wished had continued and not come to an abrupt stop.

  "Coming!" I called, hearing my voice echo against the damp walls. I stood and walked through the neglected doorway with the broken door that hung on one hinge. The carpet that led me down the hall was moist and smelly, like old gym socks and had stains of all sorts hideously colouring it. The faint light from the lounge made me uneasy as I walked in. "Yes, Uncle?" I asked quietly, preparing for what was often the worst.

"I'm going out. Now get in the basement before I push you down the stairs." His voice was stern and he spoke clearly, baring his disgusting yellow teeth.

I obeyed quietly and walked down the creaky wooden basement stairs and over to the corner, his large footsteps behind me and his big hands on my back, pushing me forward every now and then.  I sat in the corner of the dark, empty room and heard the chains rattle as he picked them up and cuffed them to my wrists tightly.

"When will you be back?" I wondered with light force in my voice. The shackles were to give him peace of mind. As I grew older, the thought of escaping became clearer and he assumed I'd take any chance. I would.

"When I get back!" He slammed shut the heavy door at the top of the stairs and all light disappeared. The eeriness of the cold and silence in the room was familiar, but never comforting.

Hours had passed and my eyes were heavy. My head rested on the ice cold ground and my stomach churned with hunger. Finally, the door burst open and his footsteps thumped down the stairs toward me. "Uncle?"

"Shut up, kid." He said lowly and unchained me. I rubbed my sore wrists and he grabbed a bunch of my unruly, long hair and pulled me up. My eyes watered as I choked back a sob and he pushed me upstairs from behind.

I felt myself sobbing lightly as he pushed me into my bedroom, throwing a brown paper bag at me. "Eat." He ordered and shut the door. I opened the bag to reveal a half eaten burger and some French Fries. I opened my mouth and swallowed without chewing. I was so hungry.

This was normal. He'd steal something, go through the rubbish or give me the left overs. I was only ever fed once a day, and in very small proportions. I wasn't allowed out the house, only ever in the small, polluted backyard every so often.

I wasn't sure if his neglect was because he was lazy and didn't care, or because he wanted to keep me weak in fear I would run.

Outside there used to be a beautiful little garden and a lovely silver tin shed. Now the garden was dead and rotted, the shed was rusted and only God knew what creatures it homed.

Sometimes Uncle would go out during the day into the city for reasons I didn't know. On the rare occasion he did this, he would lock me in the house but leave me outside of the basement. I wasn't sure why. Perhaps he felt generous on those days?

Maybe the police were looking for him, and that's why he'd go so far into the city, to get away from them, or maybe he had relatives he'd visit?

I had a few things I'd kept secret from my Uncle and I'd hide them under a floorboard.

I finished the burger and fries, but yet again, my stomach growled, unsatisfied. I ignored the growls and looked over at my bed. The frame was chipped and lop-sided. The mattress was filthy and needed to be replaced it was so worn. I had one blanket that was scrunched up at the end of the mattress. It was blue and unicorns danced upon it. My mother had made it for me when I was just three. It was my favourite. The pillow was thin and hard but so soft in comparison to the cold dense concrete I knew too well.

The walls of my small room were once a pale pink, but the paint had been chipped and there were a few holes in the walls from my Uncle's rage. The window that once let in beautiful sunlight was barricaded with several planks of wood. Small gaps between the planks of wood let light stream through in tiny amounts. The wooden floorboards were rough against my skin, and cool. The one in the middle of the floor that I knew off by heart held my treasures beneath it; protected them.

 
I lifted it slowly, trying not to make a sound. My eyes brightened at the sight of my things. Not many, but enough to help me through the days.

I took a small picture of my family out and looked at it. There stood my mother in the middle, her beautiful blonde hair flowing freely and her bright blue eyes beaming with happiness. My father stood beside her with green eyes and mouse brown hair, his arm around her lovingly. I was standing in front of them both, smiling cheekily into the camera, showing two missing front teeth. My older brother, Christopher beside me at the age of twelve laughing at me.

Sometimes I wished he had killed me.

Next I pulled out a small locket my mother gave me when I was born. I didn't wear it because I was scared Uncle would discard of it.

Though it wasn't much, it was everything in some ways.

I laid, curled up on the dirty bed with a scruffy looking rag doll cuddled to my chest. A fifteen year old shouldn't need to sleep with a dolly, I know. But I hadn't really grown up, I hadn't had the chance to.

Loud footsteps sounded down the hallway, coming toward my room. My eyes shut tightly and he pushed open the broken door. "Get up. Pack your things. Hurry up." He said and I opened my eyes, doing as he said. "Why?" I dared to wonder aloud and he looked at me.

"Cops are looking for us." He said loudly and turned away, leaving. I hurried over to the closet and opened it. A small rat scurried out but I reached in and pulled out an old backpack. I lifted the floorboard and took out the photo, placing it in the bag. I put the locket in next to it. I ran back over to the bed and shoved my dolly and blanket inside the dusty bag and then looked around. I grabbed my red cardigan that was slightly too small for me and put it on.

Goodbye, memories.