“Hey! Mary, come on… grab some food and do it!”
“Don’t bother me, you know I don’t like cooking, not even microwaving frozen pizza, y’know that. You could ask Louise, she won’t mind cooking for you” — for her dearest beloved brother, I should say. I must admit I’m still a bit (well pretty) jealous of my brother. Even though everything is in past now it still affects me. He was the one who got all the benefits, the one who received love, he was THE one.
Our parents had 3 children: Mark, Louise and me. Being the first, and a man, he received the respect of our father. Edgar, that’s its name, was an animal. I still remember, when kids, how Louise and I suffered of its abuse, not just physical but psychical. It would torture us from dawn till dusk, mess with our minds to make us detest ourselves, just for the fact of being girls. “Only weak men have daughters in their genes and I hate myself for that, but what’s done is done so I will make my girls two men of good”. Louise adapted to this creepy situation, she did everything a man was supposed to do in this family: obey; she cut her hair and she even started to call herself Louis. On the other hand, I resisted, I fought against my father and his painful punishments.
I was only 9 when I realised that something was wrong with it. I had secretly been chatting with a neighbour for about a month when I came to discover that not a single child was beaten up or kept prisoner in the basement. During those marvellous few seconds we spoke each day, I felt in another planet, in a world where nobody could find me. Words such as rights, school, and freedom suddenly became part of my vocabulary, and they encouraged me to keep on fighting. Meanwhile, my father continued with its daily doses of correctness and “education”.
My mother never got to know anything about our dreadful hours gently provided by Edgar. She just simply thought we liked living in the basement with no friends or company. Each family is a world, they say; apparently, our world belonged to the insane galaxy.
Like this, we spent (suffered) our lives. Lack of education + overdose of smacks = Louis(e). She was the one who suffered most, she had a multiple personality; she knew she had to be a men but somewhere in her split, fragile and weakened mind she felt like a woman. I still cry when I see in her tears the remains of what has been the most obscure time of his (her) life. And it was mainly that poor thing and my wish to end with her sadness what motivated me to kill the person who had given me and my sister a life of sorrow. I was definitely decided to kill my father.
After its death, everything (OK, not everything, not even the greatest amount) changed. It was as if the spell had been broken. I suddenly felt released. Louis(e) stopped to call herself Louis and started to do all the things she had been banned to do. Now cooking and baking is her passion, and our faces of pleasure after eating one of her meals is her joy. Mark and mom understood it all and no comments were made…
“HEY! MARY! Wake up! I’ve been calling you for almost 10 minutes, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, nothing. What happened?”
“Well… the thing is that Louise is sleeping… so would you mind if you could get a pizza from the freezer downstairs? I promise I’ll cook it myself”
“OK… but you owe me”
I hate him when he does this, why can’t he just get it by himself… I walked down the stairs. I was in that basement again. Now, I realise that many years have passed since the last time I was down here. Panicked? Terrified? Not at all. Pleased with myself. Relieved. Confident. Strong. I’m sure I’ve done the right thing… I opened the freezer door. The steam slowly comes out, and fills the room with mist. I search for a pizza but it is awfully hard. The freezer is full filled with expired food. Must have been ages since a living soul set foot on this room, which is particularly away. I mean, this room is abandoned and hardly anyone enters.
“Don’t bother me, you know I don’t like cooking, not even microwaving frozen pizza, y’know that. You could ask Louise, she won’t mind cooking for you” — for her dearest beloved brother, I should say. I must admit I’m still a bit (well pretty) jealous of my brother. Even though everything is in past now it still affects me. He was the one who got all the benefits, the one who received love, he was THE one.
Our parents had 3 children: Mark, Louise and me. Being the first, and a man, he received the respect of our father. Edgar, that’s its name, was an animal. I still remember, when kids, how Louise and I suffered of its abuse, not just physical but psychical. It would torture us from dawn till dusk, mess with our minds to make us detest ourselves, just for the fact of being girls. “Only weak men have daughters in their genes and I hate myself for that, but what’s done is done so I will make my girls two men of good”. Louise adapted to this creepy situation, she did everything a man was supposed to do in this family: obey; she cut her hair and she even started to call herself Louis. On the other hand, I resisted, I fought against my father and his painful punishments.
I was only 9 when I realised that something was wrong with it. I had secretly been chatting with a neighbour for about a month when I came to discover that not a single child was beaten up or kept prisoner in the basement. During those marvellous few seconds we spoke each day, I felt in another planet, in a world where nobody could find me. Words such as rights, school, and freedom suddenly became part of my vocabulary, and they encouraged me to keep on fighting. Meanwhile, my father continued with its daily doses of correctness and “education”.
My mother never got to know anything about our dreadful hours gently provided by Edgar. She just simply thought we liked living in the basement with no friends or company. Each family is a world, they say; apparently, our world belonged to the insane galaxy.
Like this, we spent (suffered) our lives. Lack of education + overdose of smacks = Louis(e). She was the one who suffered most, she had a multiple personality; she knew she had to be a men but somewhere in her split, fragile and weakened mind she felt like a woman. I still cry when I see in her tears the remains of what has been the most obscure time of his (her) life. And it was mainly that poor thing and my wish to end with her sadness what motivated me to kill the person who had given me and my sister a life of sorrow. I was definitely decided to kill my father.
After its death, everything (OK, not everything, not even the greatest amount) changed. It was as if the spell had been broken. I suddenly felt released. Louis(e) stopped to call herself Louis and started to do all the things she had been banned to do. Now cooking and baking is her passion, and our faces of pleasure after eating one of her meals is her joy. Mark and mom understood it all and no comments were made…
“HEY! MARY! Wake up! I’ve been calling you for almost 10 minutes, what’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing, nothing. What happened?”
“Well… the thing is that Louise is sleeping… so would you mind if you could get a pizza from the freezer downstairs? I promise I’ll cook it myself”
“OK… but you owe me”
I hate him when he does this, why can’t he just get it by himself… I walked down the stairs. I was in that basement again. Now, I realise that many years have passed since the last time I was down here. Panicked? Terrified? Not at all. Pleased with myself. Relieved. Confident. Strong. I’m sure I’ve done the right thing… I opened the freezer door. The steam slowly comes out, and fills the room with mist. I search for a pizza but it is awfully hard. The freezer is full filled with expired food. Must have been ages since a living soul set foot on this room, which is particularly away. I mean, this room is abandoned and hardly anyone enters.
Since mist has vanished I started to empty the freezer. Steaks, hamburgers, ice cream, frozen fried potatoes, ice, and more ice. But no pizza is at sight.
“What!?” WHAT’S THIS!? MAAAAAARK!!!! HEY MAAAARK! HURRY UP AND GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!!
“What the hell is going on here?! What happened?”
“Look”
“Where?”
“THERE?”
“There? It’s just a freezer and frozen food dropped everywhere”
“Look closely” — He leans into the freezer and screams so loud he almost deaf me. “You see?”
“We must do something”
In the freezer there are three “things”. Three towels wrapped around something somewhat big for a freezer to be in. I carefully unwrap the towels. Horror runs through my body. It’s a little arm. Now, let me tell you, NOW I AM REALLY PANICKED. I continue though. It is even worse. A head. A baby’s head. It is (actually it WAS) a baby, now it is frozen baby. There are 2 other “things” and I’m afraid that they would most likely be the same as the other. And, yes they are. Three dead babies in my freezer are staring at me with a cold look. No one can possibly resist this. I feel my temperature going down, everything is moving so fast, I close my eyes.
“Wake up, wake up… Oh! Glad you are back” — I am so happy to hear his voice again. “You fainted and I almost did it fainted too. Mother told me the whole thing… When we were 15-12 more or less she got pregnant again, and she promised herself she would not let Edgar hurt her babies anymore. She hided her pregnancy from the beast and once she gave birth she immediately froze her. The same happened two more times, and would continue happening if it wasn’t for you... Luckily you killed E. before she get knocked up again…”
I’m thrilled to know that because of my courage and determination I prevented more deaths. But there’s only one thing I can’t erase from my mind. Those little eyes staring at me keep on coming to my dreams every night blaming me for their sadness… and I know they are right. It took me too much time murdering Edgar; if I only had killed it before, those little angles would have never existed and would have never froze to death in the interior of a fridge.
“What!?” WHAT’S THIS!? MAAAAAARK!!!! HEY MAAAARK! HURRY UP AND GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!!!
“What the hell is going on here?! What happened?”
“Look”
“Where?”
“THERE?”
“There? It’s just a freezer and frozen food dropped everywhere”
“Look closely” — He leans into the freezer and screams so loud he almost deaf me. “You see?”
“We must do something”
In the freezer there are three “things”. Three towels wrapped around something somewhat big for a freezer to be in. I carefully unwrap the towels. Horror runs through my body. It’s a little arm. Now, let me tell you, NOW I AM REALLY PANICKED. I continue though. It is even worse. A head. A baby’s head. It is (actually it WAS) a baby, now it is frozen baby. There are 2 other “things” and I’m afraid that they would most likely be the same as the other. And, yes they are. Three dead babies in my freezer are staring at me with a cold look. No one can possibly resist this. I feel my temperature going down, everything is moving so fast, I close my eyes.
“Wake up, wake up… Oh! Glad you are back” — I am so happy to hear his voice again. “You fainted and I almost did it fainted too. Mother told me the whole thing… When we were 15-12 more or less she got pregnant again, and she promised herself she would not let Edgar hurt her babies anymore. She hided her pregnancy from the beast and once she gave birth she immediately froze her. The same happened two more times, and would continue happening if it wasn’t for you... Luckily you killed E. before she get knocked up again…”
I’m thrilled to know that because of my courage and determination I prevented more deaths. But there’s only one thing I can’t erase from my mind. Those little eyes staring at me keep on coming to my dreams every night blaming me for their sadness… and I know they are right. It took me too much time murdering Edgar; if I only had killed it before, those little angles would have never existed and would have never froze to death in the interior of a fridge.
Diego
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