This story is my work of art, coming from my own mind. Please do not steal any of the characters or story plot. Please do not steal anything.
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"Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality." — Edgar Allan Poe
++ P R Ø L Ø G U E ++
The stale air hit Elliott's face like a brick. The torture chair was still there, right in its place. Flashbacks hit him hard enough to make him stagger back, but he wouldn't let that stop him. He was determined to finish this through.
He headed towards the chair, ready to do something when the door creaked open behind him, and heavy steps walked down the wooden stairs. Elliott didn't dare look behind - he knew that there was only one person it could be. He wasn't prepared.
"Elliott, is that you, darling? My little skeleton boy is home to visit mama at last."
Elliott turned around slowly, taking in the sight of his mother with a baby tucked in her arms and a little boy beside her legs. Certainly not his own siblings, he hoped. But then if not, then whose were they?
"Meet your new siblings." She offered, smiling like she was finally winning. Elliott knew what was going to happen. He stepped back, holding onto the chair for support. "Mother, whose children are they?"
Mother laughed. "Silly Elliott. They're mine."
Elliott didn't believe her, and rightfully so. The toddler spoke up, like he had had enough hiding away in this dungeon. "No, she's not my mommy. I want my mommy!"
Growing up with this woman had prepared Elliott for mother's next actions. She slapped the child across the face. "Maybe two of my children are getting a beating."
Elliott could barely breathe. He knew this was a mistake, but he foolishly came anyway. He thought maybe he could find some insight on mother, but that had backfired. Elliott watched as mother set down the baby, placing him in the crib. Then, with skill, she grabbed the toddler and threw him in the chair behind Elliott, strapping him in. Immediately, Elliott remembered his own childhood. He felt sick to his stomach as mother smiled at him.
"Go ahead, dear Elliott. Pick a tool from the closet. It's your turn to punish."
Elliott felt bile rise in his throat. "What are you talking about? I'm calling the police!" Elliott moved to grab his cell phone, but mother beat him to it and handed him her favorite whip.
"You know you want to, my skeleton boy. I've raised you so. Out of all your brothers, you are the one who wants this. I can see it in your eyes - you're already dead. Do what you've always wanted to do. This is how we love, Elliott. And all children need love."
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Hello everyone reading this!
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