mind is skyrocketing right now.
We arrive at the bottom of the stairs. I’m sucking air into my lungs as Aiden pushes the metallic door open.
Both of us freeze at the entrance.
The basement appears a lot smaller than in my memory. Back then, it was a large pitch, all dark and dirty and… horrid.
But that’s how people react to traumas. Everything is magnified, becoming bigger and scarier than it actually is.
The basement is in fact the size of a room, perhaps three to four metres length.
An automatic light shines on the dark grey walls and ground. There are no chains in the corner. Dad probably got rid of those. A lavatory takes their place.
Other than that, the entire basement is empty. Neither the walls nor the floor have been renovated; they look just how I remember them.
It’s clean now, though. There’s no smell of piss and vomit.
The air contains residual humidity and cigarettes. Who comes down here to smoke?
“Bring back anything?” Aiden’s questions pulls me back from my observations.
I shake my head and step inside. The door closes behind us.
Standing in the middle, I study my surroundings closely, trying to commit anything to memory.
This place is crowded with memories, but that’s not all they were for me. They were precious pieces of my childhood. I’ve been incomplete since I erased them.
Aiden releases my hand, and I feel the emptiness before I can see it. He strides to the corner with purpose and stops in front of the wall.
A shiver races down my spine and creeps into my soul.
Even though he’s facing away, I can almost see that small boy chained to the corner, hungry, thirsty, and bleeding.
God. I don’t think I can do this. I’m tempted to grab him and run away from here.
I want to protect him.
Actually, I wanted to protect him since that first time I laid eyes on him.
I walk towards him on unsteady legs and wrap my arms around his waist from behind.
His warmth seeps straight to my shrivelling heart. I rest my cheek on his tense back, the back full of welts and scars. The strong, strong back that never bowed down.
The onslaught of tears nearly take over. If I give in to it, and to those destructive emotions, I’ll be sobbing all the way to Sunday.
I won’t be that girl.
I’ll be the seven-year-old Elsa who brought Aiden food and made sure he was okay.
I’ll be strong.
“We can do this, Aiden. We owe ourselves that much.”
His hand wraps around mine. “I don’t care as long as you’re with me.”
We remain silent for a moment. He doesn’t move to turn around and I don’t attempt to release him.
“Tell me what happened that night,” I murmur.
“That night?”
“The night of the fire. The night I lost you.” I blow out a shaky breath. “I want to hear it from you.”
28
Aiden
Past
Elsa didn’t show up.
I waited all day, but there’s no trace of her.
The chains clink behind me as I pace the length of the room.
I stare at the arrow she drew on the side of my arm and it’s starting to fade. I want to keep it. Every time I see it, I recall the focused expression on her face when she drew it. The line between her brows. The twitch of her nose.
Maybe she won’t come anymore.
Maybe the red woman hurt her.
I’ll save you. Her soft voice echoes in my head. I promise.
My pace quickens. She promised not to leave me here and I know she won’t.
I sit back down, my gaze locked on the door.
The wound hurts, and I’m warm and hot. Perspiration coats my temple and back. I don’t know if it’s because of the wound or the weather.
My head rests on the cold wall, eyes fluttering closed. Just a second. I’ll remain like this for a second.
I shake my head.
What if Elsa comes when I’m asleep?
She can come now…
Or now…
I must’ve fallen asleep because someone is shaking my shoulders. I tense, thinking about the red woman.
No.
Her hands aren’t soft and small. She doesn’t smell of cotton candy and Maltesers.
The moment I force my lids open, Elsa’s grinning face greets me. Her missing tooth is starting to grow.
She leans down, wraps her arms around my shoulders, and hugs me. Her joy runs in spades between us. Even though it hurts and I’m about to collapse, her energy is contagious. I can’t help but smile despite not knowing what she’s so happy about.
Is it weird that her happiness makes me happy?
“Daddy came home!” She gushes. “I’ll wait till