Fantasy
Read books online Ā» Fantasy Ā» My Personal Hell by D. Richardson (tharntype novel english .txt) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«My Personal Hell by D. Richardson (tharntype novel english .txt) šŸ“–Ā». Author D. Richardson



1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... 85
Go to page:
as she could get. She was a good four inches taller than me so it was quite a feat. But she was quieter in her nightmares.

Kadi rolled over, her dirty blonde hair blocking her face from view. I watched her for a few moments. She was way too scrawny. Even after nearly two years she didnā€˜t look a day older than five. When I had met her, she had had such a glow. The glow that every small child has. Itā€™s what makes them different, special, innocent. Yet, even at seven years old, that glow was gone. Replaced by a heaviness that even adults would struggle to hold.

My thoughts turned to Lori. Her birthday had been the day before, I had barely managed to snag a cupcake to celebrate. It wasnā€™t the sweet sixteen that every girl dreams of. She should be excited about getting her driverā€™s license, not dodging beatings.

She was way too thin as well, but she wore it better with her tall frame. She was worked so hard, any chance she had at gaining any weight was ruined upon waking. She insisted that I keep her light brown hair cut short. It was more practical. But with her sharp features, it left her naturally pale complexion looking sallow.

With a long sigh I went to the sorry excuse of a bathroom we were allowed to use. The only reason it was technically a bathroom were the toilet and shower stall. There wasnā€™t even a sink or mirror, just a metal shelf screwed into the concrete wall.

I brushed my teeth, using the shower head for a source of water, and pulled my hair up into a high pony tail. My hair reached to mid thigh and it was with practiced movements that I plaited it down my back.

That metal shelf held everything the three of us owned. A few towels and all of our clothing. After taking inventory I grimaced. A white polo shirt, worn out jeans, my cotton underwear, and my one and only sports bra. It was our standard uniform.

We were allowed two white polo shirts that we never had any hope of actually keeping clean. It didnā€™t matter how hard I scrubbed, our shirts were always a dingy, off white. Again, we were allowed two pairs of jeans, two pairs of underwear, and Lori and I had one sports bra each. Two pairs of socks, one pair of worn out tennis shoes, and that was the end of our wardrobe.

Kadi had outgrown nearly all of her clothes. She was small for her age, yet she still seemed to keep growing. Her jeans stopped at the tops of her ankles, her shirt was starting to show her thin stomach, and her shoes pinched her feet.

Lori wasnā€™t much better off. She had reached her full height, but she was significantly more gifted in the bust. She needed a bigger size bra, and could probably use a bigger shirt. It almost made me glad I had fully matured before being sent to this hell hole.

I took a moment to stare at the basement door. It was something I did every day. My way of shoring up the energy it took for the day to day drivel. This was not going to be a good day. Not with having to ask for bigger clothes for the girls.

But I couldnā€™t stand there for as long as I wanted to. So after a deep breath, and then another, I made my way out of the basement. The clock on the kitchen wall said it was seven thirty in the morning. I had roughly an hour to get breakfast ready, and get the girls up so they could eat before Them.

I got to work, quickly preparing the simplest of meals for the three of us. Once it was done, I went back down to the basement to wake the two. They were still curled up the way I had left them, and I sat down next to Lori.

ā€œHey, you need to get up and eat,ā€ I murmured. After a minute of rubbing her shoulder, she stirred a little, then opened her blue eyes. Her face looked paler than usual from sleep, and she rubbed her eyes. She didnā€™t say anything, but nodded.

I moved over to my bed and rubbed gentle circles on Kadiā€™s back. She moaned and rolled over, only to close her eyes again.

ā€œSweetheart, you need to get up. Breakfast is ready, we have to eat before They wake up.ā€ She groaned again, but sat up rubbing her eyes, much like her older counterpart had.

Lori came out of the bathroom, fully dressed and running our shared brush through her hair. She handed me Kadiā€™s clothes, and then the brush. I got her dressed as quickly as I could, putting her waist length hair into a ponytail. After I was done, I left Lori to help her with her shoes. She was capable of handling it on her own, but she didnā€˜t have the dexterity that we did. And I tried to let them sleep as late as possible.

Taking the stairs as silently as I could, I hurried to shove my food down my throat. I was just finishing as the girls made their way into the kitchen. By now this was all routine. I hadnā€˜t even swallowed my last bite when I started Their breakfast.

By the time I was halfway through, the girls were done eating, and I heard stirring in the bedrooms upstairs. Given our circumstances, we were all hyperaware of anything and everything that moved in the house. So I grabbed their dirty dishes and swiped their crumbs to the floor. In the same moment they jumped up, rushing to start the chores.

Ten minutes later, give or take a few seconds, the first of the Them walked into the kitchen. There were a total of three, but they seemed to follow a set chain of command. Each more ruthless than the last.

This one was the leader, Van. He was tall, broad shouldered, with biceps as thick as my thighs, and a fist the size of my head. His long blonde hair hung in greasy clumps to his chin. His dull grey eyes swept over me in no more than a glance as he took his place at the head of the kitchen table. As soon as he pulled his chair out I hurried over with his plate.

I turned back to the stove when the second in command, Mark, walked into the room. He was just as tall as Van. Actually, they were all tall. At 5ā€™6ā€ I wasnā€™t exactly short, but I still had to tip my head for my gaze to reach their eyes. Though this one, a little shorter than his leader, had even wider shoulders, and bigger fists. His hair was a color I couldnā€™t quite discern, as he kept his head buzzed. His eyes were dull brown, with no more emotion than the dead.

The third one walked in, Luscious. I didnā€™t even need to look. His presence was like a cloud of hostility enveloping me. This one was the worst. He had the least amount of power in the house, aside from us girls, and that made him even more cruel. He was an inch or so taller than the leader, but thinner than both. Though I knew from first hand experience, he had no less amount of muscle.

His black hair barely curled over his ears, and his blue eyes were almost startling in comparison. But they were a flat blue, like the lights were on, but no one was home. I truly believed that it was the lack of conscience that caused their eyes to be so lifeless.

He had this way of looking kinder than the other two. In truth, he was the worst. I was willing to put money, on if a doctor took an x-ray of his chest, there would be a black hole where his heart should be. Simply being in the same room with him caused the hair on my arms to stand on end.

I put his plate down and turned to start on the morningā€™s dishes. All was quiet and I dared to harbor a little hope. It was possible that today wouldnā€™t be as bad as they usually were. Until Kadi walked into the kitchen, several dirty glasses from the bedrooms filled her scrawny arms. The men were slobs, and often went to bed with half finished drinks on their bed side table. I only wished that I had noticed. Her shoe laces were untied.

She had to move around the table to make it to the sink, and in her hurry to get past the men, she tripped and fell. I watched as every glass hit the floor, they didnā€™t break, instead they bounced. Splashing liquid all over the back of Lukeā€™s legs.

His expression turned from mild boredom to rage in that fraction of a second. He turned on her and the image of her in that room flashed through my mind. Her blood pooling on the floor from whatever device he chose. The sound of shattering glass rang through the room, and he glanced down at the shattered pieces of the glass I had been cleaning.

The slow grin spread across his face as he looked back at me. My hands were still covered in soap. I was impressed I had even had a descent enough hold on the glass to throw it.

I knew it would miss him. In fact, it was intentional. It would only piss him off more if I had hit him. As it was the punishment was going to be bad enough.

When he turned on me, Kadi temporarily forgotten. Bless her, she scampered from the room as fast as her little legs could carry her. I kept my face blank as he made his way over to me. Showing fear only made him enjoy himself that much more.

He moved with a grace that spoke of deadliness, and an expression that promised blood loss and pain. But I kept my eyes on his as he closed the distance. This I was used to, this I could handle. It was a mantra I repeated over and over again in my head. If I kept quiet, kept my mouth shut, he would get bored and it would be over that much sooner.

I shut my mind off, retreating to the back of my own head. I could see and hear, but nothing touched me. It was a defense mechanism that I learned a long time ago.

He grabbed my upper arm, his grip so hard it was sure to leave a bruise, and sneered down at me. His breath smelled of last nights alcohol binge, and his teeth had a slight yellow tinge to them. Though it was his eyes that made me want to cringe. The only time I ever saw any emotion in them were moments like this. That was when they filled with a disgusting glee, sending shivers down my spine.

He tossed me against the wall, the same wall that was next to a door. That door led to a separate part of the basement from where we slept. It led down to what they liked to call the punishment room. In reality it was a modern day torture chamber.

He slammed the door open, shoving me down the stairs ahead of him. It was pitch black, the iron steps clanging with every step I took. But I knew my way down by heart. Over the past year and a half, I had made this journey way more times than I cared to admit, and would most likely lie about.

When we made it to the bottom I heard the familiar click. He pulled the string connected to the single light bulb in the room. I kept my eyes straight forward. I didnā€™t need to see all of the tools they used, that hung all over the walls. I didnā€™t need to see the shackles that hung from the

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 ... 85
Go to page:

Free ebook Ā«My Personal Hell by D. Richardson (tharntype novel english .txt) šŸ“–Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment