The Attached

Close To You

Two years ago...

  Noah and I held our backs in furious pain and agony, scorching as thin strips of slices covered our backs, blood dripping through.

  "OUCH!" Noah winced as he sucked in a tight breath through his clenched teeth, as I pressed a cloth down slightly on his wounds.

  "I'm sorry buddy, but this has to be done," I explained as my own back was in pure agony, while both our shirts remained off, and blood began to drop down, soaking my sweatpants I wore that moment.

  "I.....I know, it just hurts b-bad. You're......you're next, by the way," he spoke through those clenched teeth once again and pain in his voice, gripping onto a knotted shirt we tied to bite down on. All along our backs, thin, deep and painful slices spread all over, as Michael had just left. Today had been the worst of all the beatings, for this time, we became 'too mouthy' he said, causing him to take his belt off, using it a different way this time, whipping us ten licks on our backs. I had felt nothing more excruciating in my life, not even the first time. I could tell you I didn't think there was anything else in my life that could hurt like that, and I could bet I was right.

Noah had it the worst, for he had been doing most of the talking today, and got about fifteen swats. His whole torso was fire red while his back looked like complete hell, no flesh left on besides blood and slits.

Tears stormed in my eyes still, as the pain bothered me something wicked, shooting at me the more I moved. But I had to move, trying to fix up Noah first. Michael had left to grab us some more supplies, as he even looked sickened himself when he left, peering at us limply on the floor with blood soaked everywhere and the two of us in pain. Looking as if sorry, but I knew that couldn't be right. He couldn't be sorry, he never was.

  Grabbing a cloth that was once white, now stained a pink, I dunked the older towel in a bucket of water, pouring in the remainder we had from our water bottles. Sponging off Noah's back, as it began to slowly heal over slightly, no more blood draining out of the slits. But I could tell it still killed him, for his whole body would wince and almost heave as I would place the cloth back on his back.

  "Are you.......almost.....done?" He asked, biting the shirt as he lied on his bed positioned on his stomach, tears running down his face as well as mine.

  "Yeah, it looks much better than before," I told him, not a complete lie, for now what lied on his back were fire red slices, the skin very irritated all along his back. I could only bet mine looked like that as well, trying to make very slow and small movements, although even an inch of moment would cause an incredible shooting burst of pain running up along my spine. However the pain on the inside was just as bad as the one outside, for it wasn't just my back, but my pride, dignity, my self was in pain. I had no power. I was only a captive, I couldn't do anything to stop Michael. Originally I thought he was only going to hit Noah, however I stood up at the last second, as he turned his blistering anger towards me as well, and then came my nightmarish turn. Screaming out in pain as we had to watch each other, and for the very first time in eight years I believed someone might actually hear us. But like always, to our unanswered howls, screams and horrifying screeches, no one came. No one cares we might die down here. Nobody cares at all.

  The cellar door opened with another squeak, the ladder flying down with the bright sunlight as Michael toppled his way down almost in a hurry. As if he actually cared for us, as if he actually wanted us to be ok. Yeah right. His expression haunted with fear and sorrow—sorrow—as he turned towards us once he hit the dirt covered ground. A full bag in one arm, as he rushed over towards us, placing the bag down and began to touch my back, as if trying to fix it himself.