Alone But Never Afraid

CW: Domestic abuse

The basement was colder than normal today. I had to grab a sweater to cover my exposed arms from the strange draft tumbling up the stairs. I had just moved into this creaky old house that had grabbed my attention as soon as I saw it. It needed some TLC, but so did I, and I knew that this was the house for me. 

The first time I wandered down to the basement, it felt cozy, but the stone walls almost had an agitated aura pulsing from them. It was easy to overlook; I would feel that way too if a stranger was invading my space. Now that nearly a month has passed since that eerie day, I was surprised to feel that same energy when I entered the basement. My feet had a mind of their own as they took timid steps into the forsaken darkness. 

Right before I inched into the darkest part of the room, something was telling me to go back up the stairs. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up, causing chills to run down my spine. I closed my eyes to calm my nerves, but the feeling was persistent. The back of my neck where the fuzzy hair had stood before started to burn. 

I was being watched.

My chest tightened painfully, making it hard to breathe. My senses were in overdrive, making it impossible to move even if I forced myself. The cold was starting to make my boney hands, which have been clutching my sweater, ache. Something skittered across the floor behind me. Fear had hives climbing up my neck, and sweat beading along my hairline. I have felt this before at my childhood home.

My stepfather was a mean drunk, which was his natural state. When he would arrive home late at night from the bar, I knew I needed to hide. He never went after mother so she didn’t feel like she needed to intervene. Remembering how his boots sounded as he stalked down the hall, his rancid cigarette breath mixed with whiskey, and his callused hands squeezing my arms spiked my adrenaline. 

I learned not to fight or run since it only made it worse, but the persistent urge to go back still nagged at me. At one point, I thought I felt a small tug on the back of my chenille cardigan. I brushed it off, believing it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Up until now, I had only felt watched by invisible eyes a couple of times. I figured whatever it was didn’t mind my presence. This entity I was facing in the dark was different from my companion upstairs. 

Icy spiders walked down my arms, making me feel even more frightened than before. Feeling faint, I must’ve opened myself up to the treacherous creature living in the dark. The smell of stale cigarettes wafted up with the draft that had been assaulting me. Clinking of glass came from further in the basement, and the stone walls felt like they were closing in on me. 

Before I registered any more of the noises, I was 13 again, hiding at the top of my closet. Fighting for my life as our camper trailer rocked back and forth from the abuse. I need to get the hell out of here. I said this to myself as anger settled in my stomach. This time when I felt the tug on my shoulders, I listened. I screamed into the darkness so that this demon would feel my wrath that I’ve been holding onto for years. I could feel my soul get lighter as I released the pent-up anger from years of living with ignorant parents. 

When I ran out of breath and energy, I turned so that my back was facing the evil thing that had shrunk back into a faraway corner. Being afraid of living in my home will no longer happen. I marched up the rickety stairs that led to my backyard. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Tears dripped down my chilled cheeks, making me laugh. Light streamed down the basement stairs, making them feel not as haunted as before. 

I strode back to my back porch with my shoulders pushed back. I entered the small dining room with wallpaper covered walls. A smile tugged the corners of my mouth up. Feeling a warm embrace envelop my shoulders, I felt proud of myself. I finally stood up for myself without being guilty afterwards. “Thank you for lending me your strength.” I whispered to the apparition that had secretly become my friend. 

A soft breeze brushed my cheek as if to wipe the happy tears away. Then came the footsteps strolling out of the kitchen and down the hall. There was a painted glass window that turned the rays of light into rainbows positioned at the end of the hall. Something seemed to boost the light filtering through the pane, and I finally saw something I never believed I was allowed to see. 

My stepfather turned and smiled a gapped toothed smile at me. My mother walked towards him from a dark cloud under the window. I stopped breathing as I finally understood. He was never the villain; he was only doing what he was told. Mom never looked at me as she took his hand. Even in the afterlife, she was still a bitch.  

The good thing was that I didn’t feel hate towards them anymore. It was more of a detached feeling that came with letting go. I was happy they had each other even in the afterlife. To already be doing better than they were at my age, and now nothing was holding me back. I would no longer be the bitter woman that my mother had me shaped into. It’s funny that it took my stepfather to be a spirit for him to help me realize who the real enemy was the entire time. 

As he said goodbye, he and my mother glided into the rainbow of light. Disappearing from my view in the most otherworldly way. I suddenly felt alone but not tormented. I walked into the living room to sit on my old spring filled couch. Running my hands over the scratchy material as my thoughts went haywire. The silence made my ears ring. The stale air of the house finally felt like home. With my stepdad gone, I needed something to help with the free space that now filled my home. Maybe I’ll get a dog.

FIN