The Boy From the Basement; Book One

Blue Eyes

            I turn it and the lock clicks. The door becomes ajar and I can feel a cold draft. I hug myself for warmth and step in. I lock the door from the outside because if someone looks in through the window I don’t want them to see the door open—call me paranoid. I venture down the steps. The stairs seem long and menacing. It’s so dark and I want to turn around but there is a dim light on below so I keep going. At the last step my eyes are still adjusting but I can make out the cage—I don’t see the wolf in there. Maybe my father wasn’t lying? Well the part about it not being in the basement—then I think that the wolf got loose. I hold the knife that’s in my hand tightly.

            It isn’t until my eyes fully adjust to the dim light that the place looks familiar. I have never been down here but there was this familiar feeling about it. I have seen this place before but when? I walk farther in and I can hear that metal scraping noise again. I shine my horrible phone light in the direction of the sound. What I see horrifies me. I drop my phone and back up into the wall. I feel like the walls are closing in and I can’t breathe. It’s not a wolf at all—it’s a boy—a teenage boy. He is sitting in a chair—his eyes are closed but I can see the steady rise in his chest.

            I pick my phone up and cover my mouth to keep from making noises. What was a teenage boy doing here? In my basement? I slowly stand up but my legs feel shaky. I moved closer wishing he would wake. I studied him—his features. He was shirtless—I blushed. He was wearing jeans—they looked like my father’s jeans. He had a couple tattoos on his back and arm. I circle him like a vulture would do to their meal. I move around trying to be as quiet as I can. The boy had short blonde hair and stubble. I move closer—so close I am right in his face. Why does he look so familiar to me? Why does this entire scenario seem familiar?

            He opens his eyes suddenly. I step backwards and lose my footing. I fall on the ground and my butt takes the fall. Blue eyes. That is when I know that this boy—he is the boy from my dreams.

            Blue eyes. Blue eyes. Blue eyes.

            That is all I can think about as he stares at me. We stare for a very long time. He doesn’t seem angry but just mildly curious. I swallow hard and look away—this doesn’t make sense. How can you dream about someone you have never met before? The basement, the boy, the chair. But where was the man? The very man that tortured the boy.

            “You are like them.” He says in a velvety pleasant voice and I am perplexed. What does that mean? Who am I like? When I don’t say anything he tries to point to me but his hands are chained. How could my father do this? Where was the wolf? I still have no idea what he is taking about.

            “Your necklace.” I grab my necklace and look at it. The pendant is circular and words written in Latin are on it—in the middle is a wolf and a bow and arrow beside it.

            “What are you talking about?” I say and he growls at me—actually growls at me. It sounds way too animalistic. I step back and tuck my necklace in my pocket. It was given to me by my great grandmother. On her death bed she said that when I am old enough I will know what it truly means to wear it. That was five years ago and I still haven’t a clue. My parents say that it’s important and when the time comes I will know.

            “How did you get here?” I ask but he isn’t answering me. He stares at me as I sit squirming around waiting for him to say something. I feel myself unravel as he stares at me.

            I spot the bags from this morning and rifle through them. It’s just some basic food and a case of water. Did my father plan on keeping him here? I grab a granola bar and dangle it in front of him. He looks hungry—I just want to be nice. He glares at me and hits it out of my hand. It flies across the room. I smirk.