A Fading Memory

The next few days were to be spent fixing up the basement with Stella. Planning permission still hadn't come through and to be honest, I wasn't expecting it to. The basement was full of hazardous dust and creaky floorboards. Very little light found its way in. It smelt of dead and rotten rats but Stella was quite excited to get to work. It'd take a lot of work to get that place into some shape. There were mountains and mountains of boxes down there too. They'd all been left by the last family that lived here. There was all sorts of things inside, everything from cutlery to carpets. Stella gave me the job of sorting through every bloody box, to find the valuable things to sell on eBay.

I came across a box labelled "CHILD TOY". It sure sounded sinister. I opened the box cautiously, unsure of what I'd find. The label suggested it'd be the body of a dead child used as a toy for some sick man's pleasure. Instead, it was stuffed with action figurines and bouncy balls. I sighed in relief and began sorting through the box. Most of the action dolls were blood stained from bloody fingers. It made no sense to me, why a child's toy was coated in blood. Nothing was worth selling, they were all broken or dirty.

Stella made me lunch as I sorted through more boxes. I'd found a pearl necklace that must've cost a fortune. In that same box I also found a pair of fancy high-heels that would fetch a pretty penny once polished. I couldn't help but hope I'd find something that looked as though it belonged to a teenage boy. I wanted proof that C.M existed and it's not just me going crazy. I hoped to find a box of photographers, but Stella destroyed them all. Maybe a few were left for me to find. I wanted to know what had happened to him.

"Alright, I'll have to go into town to pick up a few things now. I'll be back at about 4." Stella came back down and handed me a plate of food. I took it gratefully and nodded. "Do as many more as you can, there's thousands more to come." She hurried back upstairs. I heard the front door open and bang shut, then all fell silent. It was nerving, being all alone down in the basement. Bad things happened in basements. I swallowed loudly and go back to a box.

It was the jackpot I'd been waiting for. The box was labelled ‘C.M.’ It was separated from the rest of the boxes, as though someone had moved it for me to notice. I opened it excitedly, imagining all the sorts of things I'd find. The first thing I noticed was a football jersey. It was a Cardiff Blue one 'Monroe' written on the back. Maybe that's what the ‘M’ stood for. I put it to one side and delved deeper into the box. There were photos, all of the same handsome boy. In some photos he was half naked, being beaten by an older man. Some were ones he'd taken of himself as some sort of diary. One of them even had his red haired lover in. He looked so happy with the other boy. He looked calm and relaxed. Almost every one had something written on the back.

August 17, 1996 One began. 'I can’t explain what happened today, but I tried to tell them I’m gay. He hit me! He fucking slapped me and tried to tell me that I’m not! What the Hell? He’s supposed to care for me!’. I shivered at his words. This must've been when the cruelty began. The picture showed a young boy, blood and bruises on his face and tears in his eyes, a desperate panic and confusion that cried to be noticed.

I pushed the photos aside for a moment and scanned the box some more. There was a newspaper clipping about the death of a boy whos family only wanted him known as C.M. He killed himself on Christmas day, 1998. I shivered again and put it with the photos. I’d look at them later. There were piles of tapes and videos, some home made. They needed to be looked at too. Right at the very bottom of the box, a bloody razor blade lay forgotten. I reached in to pick it up.

"DON'T TOUCH IT." a voice suddenly screamed. I jumped to my feet and glanced frantically around the room. It was a man's voice. It had come from behind me, but there was no one there. A fear began to grow in my stomach. There was something with me, I could feel its presence.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" another voice yelled, this time from upstairs. There was a loud thud as though someone had fallen to the floor. "I HOPE THIS BLOW KILLS YOU!" There was a loud clang, like someone had been hit with a frying pan like in the comics.

I stood there trembling, begging Stella to come home. I was terrified of the voices coming from upstairs and the soulless presence down here with me. Screams of pain came roaring down the steps, filling my ears until I could take no more. I screamed, holding my hands over my ears to try and drown out the sound of agony. I was unsure as to how long I stood there screaming. When I dared open my eyes again, I wished I hadn't.

Who I could only assume to be C.M stood there, blood pouring from his mouth, his nose twisted and broken. He smiled manically, stretching is piercings across his face, his whole body trembling. He looked insane, different to the boy I'd seen yesterday. His head was cocked to one side in such an innocent way he scared me. His ginger hair fell in front of his face, but I was too terrified to see how cute he was. I must have been seeing things. C.M was dead, he killed himself only three days before I was born. Suddenly, he began to laugh. A terrifying sound, as though the Devil himself was laughing. I closed my eyes again, hoping he'd vanish and I'd never have to see him again. I opened them slowly. He was still there, laughing and smiling manically.

"This is the year that hope fails you." he chuckled. Suddenly I felt faint. My vision began to blur and C.M's demonic face began to spin around and round in circles in my mind. I tried to scream, but no sound came. I fell to the floor, the world instantly going black.