Prologue
Maya
Three years ago...
Iwas starting to wonder if they’d forgotten about me.
With all things considered, it was a possibility, especially since the room above me had been eerily silent.
My eyes darted to the barred basement window.
How hard would it be to open up those bars?
Or attempt to slip through? A shiver of fear trailed up my spine at how mad my mother and father would be if I left our house.
Left my small basement room. I curled up further into a ball, my chin resting on my knees as I tried to stay warm.
No one ever told me what time of year it was, but I had to assume winter considering the bare branches of the trees.
Maybe my parents went somewhere to celebrate Christmas.
I had asked once to celebrate with them.
Since it’s a religious holiday, I figured they would be okay with that…
but apparently not. I’d listened to the service in the church above and then the celebration that went on above me for hours as I waited for my mother to bring me food. I’d gone to bed hungry that night.
Hungry like I was right now. My stomach rumbled quietly as I tried to count how many days and nights had passed since they’d last been down here.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was thrilled that my body had healed from my mother’s beating.
This time it was because I’d apparently made a face at her she didn’t like.
I wasn’t positive what she was talking about, but I would try to not do it again because that hurt. A lot.
I was pulled from my thoughts as the door swung open, revealing a bit of the dark hallway behind Pastor Malcolm.
My father’s blonde hair looked freshly washed, and he was dressed in his pastor robes.
As he brought in a tray of food, I forced myself not to rush to stand up.
The one time I’d done that, he’d called me greedy.
My nails bit into my palms as I waited for him to speak. Children were meant to be seen, not heard.
“Maya.” He placed the tray down in front of me, squatting to nearly eye level with me. His eyes were so cold that it made me uncomfortable. I felt like a little bug that was going to be squashed. It was why I never killed any of the insects down here. It wasn’t their fault they were so small.
“Father,” I offered, attempting a small smile.
“Pastor Malcolm,” he corrected. I nodded, waiting for him to say whatever he’d planned to. But instead of saying anything, he stared at me for a few more moments before standing up and leaving.
I deflated, wondering what he was looking for. I didn’t think I had changed at all, but lately it seemed like he was waiting for something to happen. It made me nervous that it wouldn’t happen and he would be disappointed. If he was disappointed, Mother would hurt me…
I quickly grabbed the sandwich in front of me and ate it, not even minding that the bread was a bit stale.
Were there other children that lived like me?
I didn’t think so, because outside there were children that played whenever it was warm.
They weren’t stuck in a basement. Why couldn’t I go outside?
Probably because the devil was inside me.
Every time I healed from one of my mother’s beatings, that’s what she said. She said I had the devil inside of me. That was why I was down here, after all.
My stomach hurt after finishing the small meal. As I curled on my side, my face against the stone, I watched as a little mouse moved under the window, against the wall, keeping quiet. Not wanting to attract attention to itself and get hurt.
Was I always going to have to live like that mouse?