Christopher’s mother moved to the sink and put her hand under the cold tap. The water poured over the burn.
“Let me see that. Oh, you need first aid,” Jill said.
The hissing lady stood in the kitchen, waiting to see if there would be a reaction. Christopher said nothing. He just followed Jill over to the sink to cover the sound of his footsteps. Then, he took hold of his mother’s hand in the water, closed his eyes, and thought as loudly as he could.
MOM! LEAVE THIS PLACE! NOW!
Christopher’s mother suddenly checked her watch.
“God, is that the time?” she said, alarmed.
“Please, let me get you a bandage,” Jill said.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you. I need to get Mr. Olson back if I’m going to be home in time for my son’s school bus.”
Christopher’s mother stood up, leaving Christopher breathless, his forehead dripping sweat. Jill followed Christopher’s mother out into the entry hall.
“Well, why don’t you bring your son up for dinner sometime?”
“I would love that,” Christopher’s mother said, then she called up the stairs. “Mr. Olson! I’m sorry to rush you, but I have to get you back. My son will be coming home.”
Christopher watched as Ambrose came downstairs, carrying the baseball glove. His little brother David followed him, playing hopscotch on his shadow.
“DAVID! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!” the hissing lady shrieked.
David said nothing and ran back upstairs, afraid. Christopher watched silently as Ambrose and his mother thanked Jill, then left the house. They walked to the car. Away from the hissing lady. Away from danger.
Jill walked back to the kitchen with her mug of coffee. The hissing lady followed. Christopher didn’t have a moment to lose. Quiet as a mouse, he tiptoed on his stocking feet to the basement door. He opened it quickly and slipped through. He could hear Jill on the other side of the door.
“Clark, could you bring home some Lanacane? I’ve got an allergy or something. I can’t stop itching. And did you call the exterminator? It still smells like shit in the basement.”
The basement was dark. Christopher stood at the top of the long staircase. He squinted to try to see what was down there, but he could see nothing. He could hear nothing. But he knew that whatever was down there was horrible.
From the smell.
The smell of rotten food was everywhere, mixed with a leather baseball glove and what felt like hundreds of years of “long shots” that missed the urinal. The hissing lady had come up with a dog bowl full of rotten food. Was it for a prisoner?
Or an animal.
Christopher heard a chain clank in the basement. He looked down the wooden staircase. With open stairs. Open for hands to grab him.
“Sir, are you down there?” Christopher whispered.
There was silence. And Christopher didn’t trust it. Something was terribly wrong. He knew it in his bones. He took a little step to get a closer look, but he almost slipped. He looked down at his feet and saw something wet and sticky on the bottom of his socks.
It was blood.
A trail of it ran down the staircase like a river. Christopher wanted to retch, but he held it in. He wanted to run, but he could feel the hissing lady in the kitchen blocking his escape.
There was nowhere to go but down.
Christopher slowly moved down the stairs. Into the darkness. The wood planks creaking beneath his feet. He almost slipped in the blood, but he steadied himself on the railing. He took another step. He heard shallow breathing. He squinted, trying to see if anyone was standing in the room. He couldn’t make out any shapes. Just darkness. And that stench. Rot and copper. More pungent with every step.
He reached the bottom of the stairs.
Christopher put his stocking feet on the cold cement floor. He reached out to flick on the light. But the light was broken. He thought he heard someone breathing in the corner. Christopher groped in the darkness, his eyes trying to adjust. He took another blind step into the basement.
That’s when he tripped over the body.
It was the nice man. His wrists and ankles shackled. Soaked in the rust-smelling blood.
“Sir?” Christopher whispered.
The nice man did not move. Christopher reached around in the darkness. His hands found two buckets placed against the wall. The first was a bathroom. The second had clean water and an old ladle. Christopher picked it up. He took the