The basement wreaked of mildew and mold. I huddled on the mattress, my legs hugged to my chest, clinging to the sad excuse of a blanket. My clothes were covered in holes and dirt. They smelled liked I had worn them for months without washing them and my hair was a mess of blonde, resembling a rat's nest. I shivered, my chattering teeth being the only noise that could be heard besides the hum of the water heater. I could hear footsteps up above; my parents must have been awake. I knew my father would be drunk and I readied myself for what would happen next.

I heard the door to the basement slowly creak open and footsteps sounded on the noisy steps. I buried myself as far into the corner of the mattress as I could, hoping to hide myself in the darkness. The footsteps echoed on the concrete floor and quickly approached me. I felt tears run down my boney cheeks as I pictured the scene in my head. I hugged myself, both for warmth and protection as my father towered over me. I got a revolting whiff of alcohol as he stood before me, bottle in hand. The moonlight shone through the window, casting a shadow across his aged face. I could make out an evil smirk. I could read his mind; knew what he was planning to do next.

Before I could blink, my father raised his hand in the air and let it fall so it collided with my cheek. I winced as a stinging sensation ran up my face. He placed his hands on my tiny leg and shook me until my head slammed into the wall. He slapped my cheek once more and allowed himself to punch me in the forearm.

“You're a disgrace to this family!” he slurred. I managed to shield my head from anymore damage he was capable of doing as he shook me some more. I could feel a burning running through my face and his grip tightened around my leg. I could feel bruises forming as he shifted most of his weight onto his hands.

“Please!” I cried out.

“Did I say you could talk?” he demanded. He hit my head before I could answer. I swallowed my tears as the pain ran throughout my body. Fear and hurt overwhelmed my emotions as my father abused me. I could hear my mother's light footsteps above.
“Answer me, boy!” he screamed as he wailed on my skull.

“No,” I whimpered. My father stepped back and let out a deep laugh, the strong aroma of booze filling the air.

“That's what I thought.” I could feel my body shaking with fear and tears were managing to break the barricade behind my eyes. They were beginning to blur my vision to where I could only make out my father's figure. He stepped back into the shadows of the basement.

“Get to sleep. You need to be up early to take care of the house before school,” he slurred. He turned around and stumbled up the stairs, slamming the basement door behind him. I didn't feel completely safe until I heard the lock on the handle turn and his footsteps faded.

Outside I could hear the ringing sound of crickets singing and an owl in the distance. I longed to be out there, smelling the fresh air of nature and feeling the breeze against my abused body. I could picture myself running through a field, my mother waiting on the other side with her arms extended welcoming me in an embrace. I wanted to feel her hand as she ran it through my hair. I wanted to be able to hear her heartbeat as she held me in her arms and told me it would be okay. I wanted her to comfort me as I sobbed for all that had happened in my lifetime. I knew that would never happen for my father would kill her if she affiliated herself with me in any way.

With the thoughts of my mother and the soothing sound of the crickets, I managed to drift into a restless sleep. I knew I had tossed and turned throughout the night for when I awoke that morning I was exhausted. I could already hear the floor creaking underneath of my parents' feet as they scrambled around the house, trying to get ready for work.. I heard the lock on the basement handle click and the door swung open. I pulled the cover as far over my face as I could when I saw my father emerge from the top of the stairs.