"Sara!" I heard my mother call me from downstairs, her voice echo-ing off into the empty hallways.
"Sara, get down here!" my legs buckled and I felt myself stiffen on the hard concrete.
My hands wrapped around the broken cup and saucer that I was using to play with the boy. Mother would kill me if she saw. I quickly hid them in a hollow floorboard I recently discovered and crouched down into the darker corners of the room. i heard her moving about downstairs, crashing things and swearing words I could not yet understand. My heart sank when I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. They stopped a few feet away and I felt all the blood drain from my face. But then again the thought surfaced at the top of my head;
"It's not her.." the boy's voice was almost drowned out by the beating of my heart, which was getting louder by the second as his words sinked in. Not her? Then who was it? My eyes scanned the room, hoping to find something that would slow down my pulse. What I saw was unbelievable. He was slowly climbing up the wooden wall, his ragged nails digging into the wood. His eyes that were trained on me, turned a nasty yellow colour. As he reached the ceiling, I cringed as I heard the cracking sound of his neck as it turned three hundred sixty degrees. My eyes shifted to the door that was opening, and a black figure seemed to enter the room, having his own pair of nasty yellow eyes as the boy above me.
"Daddy, daddy!" I looked up to see the boy, his mouth opened in a silent cry. The figure was standing there, it's hands rigid at it's side. This isn't real.
Memories of my father came swarming back into my mind, stinging my brain with pain. Memories of my mother hitting me with anything she found soon caught up to me. The rape, the abuse.. My brother..
My eyes widened. That's right. That one memory that brought her the most pain was seeing her mother abort her baby brother. This would explain the situation she was in. The boy above her is her mother's unborned child