Our story begins long ago, the beginnings of my life as a young boy. I was settled in a poorly crafted home, with my “Father”, and my brother. My mother having fallen ill a few years back.This house was shy of what you’d expect in a loving, comfortable family home. Peeling wallpaper, and stains produce by (unidentified) substances adorned every wall. Broken tile shifted from under your feet, and the stairs, their wood now rotting, crackled under your weight.And oh…not to mention the smell, that horrible rotten smell. A stench so potent your nostrils could burn, it reeked of mold, and animal waste. I could tell we had rats living around us somewhere. Did they find it nice there? I hoped someone could've.
Every night, my “Father” would arrive home around 1am, drunkenly navigating up the steps, stumbling into his bedroom. I never knew where he was, or why, but I never dared question him. I had a deep rooted fear for my “Father”. He had a very odd…appearance. We shared almost no resemblance. Having peculiar long wavy green hair, and sharp, almost shark-like teeth. And his height, he was abnormally tall, standing at around 7ft. How he was even my father was an utter mystery to me, he didn’t even feel like one, he played the role of my "Father" very poorly.
Most of my time spent in that home was being responsible for my baby brother, Rox. Rox seemed to resemble my “Father” much more closely. They both had that strange green hair, and sharp teeth. My “Father” didn’t provide us with much support so I was always there for Rox. I missed my mother a lot of the time. I’d stay awake, thinking about her warm smile. Wishing she was still around to provide me with reassurance. It all seemed so…weird. She never even had a funeral, and I never got to see her at the hospital. My “Father” insisted it was nothing for me to be seeing. I couldn’t argue, but I keep considering what would’ve happened if I did see her one last time. It pained me that I never got the chance to give her a proper goodbye…
One night I lay in bed, my eyes peeled open, darting across the ceiling. I had heard a peculiar sound coming from downstairs, banging and clanging rang throughout the halls as I lay in my bed petrified. I desperately wanted to know what the source of noise was, but I was too terrified to move.
I covered my mouth abruptly, stifling a scream. Whatever was making noise had made its way upstairs. I slowly lifted myself upright in my bed, cautiously creeping up to my door and peering through the keyhole. I could make out a tall dark figure in the hallway, it seemed to be, choking someone. I could hear the dark figures victim struggle for air as its hand constricted their throat. A few seconds later the gasping seized, and I began to stumble backwards, falling onto my bed.
I pulled my covers over my face and shivered, praying whatever was in the hallway wouldn't come for me next.
When I awoke in the morning, I ran out my door, yelling for my father, concerned about the noises from the night before. But the only response I recieved was the cries of my baby brother Rox. When I stepped into the living room the sound of sirens filled the air, and police-men knocked on the door. When I opened it, they had told me my father had been arrested, and that me and my brother would be staying at my neighbor Dwight's house.
One of the police-men rocked Rox gently in his arms, trying to keep him from crying. He handed Rox to me, and gestured for me to step outside. I didn't really have any personal belongings to bring with me, so from then on, I left behind my life at that old house forever.
Dwight's parents were very kind to us, they gave us our own room and all, and Dwight's mother, Lilia, took very good care of Rox. This gave me a better chance to get to know Dwight, and we spent a lot of time together.
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