The story of a scar

The scars have been healing in delayed process. The latest one is on my forehead to the right side which feels rough when I touch it. There have been others on the back and legs too, but this is one that steals all the attention from my facial features.

I lost track of time and days that I have been trapped here in the basement. Usually, he lets me out within two days when he can no longer hear my screams and cries, but this has been exceeding the limits.

I still think of the time when I was cursing about my life back then and wishing for an escape from the monotonous life that I have been leading. It all feels like a dream. I feel double my age, double my sadness, and double my pain.

1 month ago

I still remember that day clearly as if it just happened yesterday. I woke up groggily after hearing the alarm ringing for 0.3 seconds, it’s a bit late compared to my streak of waking up before the alarm ringing. The wake-up sounds always irritate me and I have been always on a race to wake up before making it ring for long.

It’s a lazy Sunday morning, a day before the wicked Monday, I had breakfast and started using my phone and aimlessly scrolling through my socials. All the happy faces make me depressed and hate my life, but I continue scrolling because I have nothing better to do.

Fighting against my laziness, I got up, determined to make the day a little eventful and went for a library. Libraries have always been my safe heaven, even on a bad day, a few hours spent in any library would cheer me up.

I started burying my head into the fiction section and only realized how much time had passed when I got a call from an unknown number, probably a scam or useless call.

I started walking back and decided to board the subway out of sheer boredom. I have been waiting at the subway station clearly waiting for the last bus to board home clearly hesitant to go back to the place which limited my creative side to a maximum. It has been raining for the past couple of minutes and the sun has just gone down for the day, it would have been wise to board the subway in front of me but being the obstinate mind, I was, I kept waiting for the final one.

The station got darker, and the people got fewer, it would have been a perfect place for a crime to happen according to my widely imaginative side. The only unusual thing that happened was an old lady coming near me and giving out a brochure even though I had clearly shown lack of interest in it.

Maybe if only I showed indifference, I wouldn’t be in the basement today.

It all happened so fast that some details are still missing for me to fill out. One moment I have been standing on the waiting area next time I am tossed on to some vehicle. The chemical might have worn off. My mouth was gagged, and I could not see anything other than darkness.

I tried screaming but all that came out were some incoherent muffles. With no energy left and the effects of the chemicals still lingering I fall back into darkness.

It was a boy, a teenager maybe, but he won’t be older than 18. When I first saw him, I thought he was also a victim of whatever I have been going through. But to my naive mind I could never imagine someone so young being capable of horrendous incidents like this.

Apparently, I was his long-lost soulmate, and someone very precious to him. He talked to me about how we would cherish me forever in the basement and started screaming at the madness.

I asked for his parents or anyone responsible and all he did was smirk and leaving me to myself. All I could do was scream loudly and try freeing myself from the lock that I have been on.

The abuse began when he started forcing himself on me and when I refused, a crack was heard and a shooting pain on my left leg. I lost track of what happened after that and the number of injuries that I have sustained. He never harmed my face initially but even that streak finally got filled three nights ago. When he carved out a portion of my forehead with his special dagger for me.

“It’s all a part of your cherishment” he said.

All I could do was curse him and try to free myself.

“You are sick, I feel sorry for your parents” I said.

And that was the last time I saw him. He gave me an unrecognizable look and something dangerous flashed in his eyes which made me stop whatever I was going to say next.