July 12, 2004, Charleston, West Virginia
Leon was adopted by a wealthy family. His parents, Noah and Tamm Parsey, abused him all the time over really small things. Noah didn't give much damn about him, showing with the contact of a leather whip. It hurt, always hurt. Even as a baby, they would underfeed him, and Tamm would often think about smothering him with a pillow. In their eyes, they didn't love him; rather, they had him as a slave. Each time over the years, for every birthday, he got a lash from the whip on his back. Every scar marked a year of surviving with them.
I eventually turned 17, almost getting kicked out of the house, stripped clean of everything they had given me. They celebrated his second-to-last year there by giving me the day to clean the house. I swept, I mopped, and I bled. The only reward I ever got was what I needed to survive: food, hygiene, and clothes.
During the night, he slept on a cold stone floor in their boiler room. I could hear rats scurrying on the floor, sometimes under my feet. The place smelled of feces and mold, and that meant I was being forced to clean this place up before I knew it. Of course, I was going to have a better environment... well, until the mess comes back.
Noah stood over me with cold eyes, making sure I was working the way he wanted. If I were to slow, I would get a lash from the whip.
"I hope you learn how to live down here for the remainder of your time here," Noah said as he walked back up the stairs. I felt the disappointed tone deep in his voice, it was like I didn't do good enough.
"Why was I born, to suffer or to live? There is a difference between the two, but both had their place in my life; I have achieved both in the worst ways possible." I thought to myself, lying on my back, the skin stuck to the floor, as my blood treated itself as glue. If I died from infection, then so be it. At least I have a chance to escape this hell.
"Leon, get up here, it's time for dinner," Tamm yelled down at me with a demand.
Food? It felt like every time I heard the word, it fed me with relief, whether or not it was the usual cold food or scraps I was given. I walked up the stairs and sat at the long dinner table. My seat was creaky and dusty. I rarely got to sit at all. Today felt like they lost their touch; they seemed softer. In front of me was an unusually okay meal, at least it looked like it: a strange soup.
"You're leaving in 8 months, Leon. Soon, we will no longer have to deal with you or your depressing attitude." Tamm held her knife and fork, taking a bite. She had Steak and potatoes on her plate. He looked at my bowl, signally me to try it. "Eat it!"
"What's in it?" I said while staring at the bowl. I'm moving the spoon sitting on it, seeing a long, stringy tail. It was a rat's tail.
"Don't be rude, she got out of her way to give you food, and that's how you act? This is why you are worthless." Noah yelled at me, pointing the knife in my general direction. " ...Fine, stave. We couldn't care less. We're rich, we can bail ourselves out of trouble if you pass."
I was starving, but this was just gross. I couldn't eat this, I felt like a herbivore being fed meat. Everything felt so unsanitary. But I took the spoon and... put it beside the bowl. "I am not hungry."
Tamm snapped and pounded the table. "You ungrateful little shit." He pointed at Noah and then to the basement. "Put him in the cellar."
"Now, you've done it." He got up and grabbed my shirt collar. I was being pulled down stairs and into the wine cellar. He opened the door and shoved me in.
For a whole night, the only thing I could hear was him locking the door. I have little to no room the lie down in. I could only huddle against the wall. Spiders, centipedes; they crawled onto me. I got used to being put in here so much, I lost the fear of the dark or what crawled in it. I could only cry and accept the torture. Sometimes I even thought that they might not be my real parents.
"Wake up, and get to work." I opened my eyes. The door was opened, and Tamm was standing there. In her hand was a mop and bucket." Clean the basement, and you will get a good meal.
"Was I supposed to believe that, or was she just lying to motivate me?" Either way, I didn't have a choice. Can I ever enjoy a sweet moment of daylight, or do I have to rely on windows only?
I scrub the floor and ring out the mop for an hour. When I was done. Tamm threw me a loaf of bread, it smelled good, so I let my hunger get the better of me and ate it down fast. It wasn't a meal, but it felt like I hadn't eaten in a month or a week.
"Look at him, he thinks he's done good," Noah whispered to Tamm. "Time to tell him?"
Tamm nodded and held a uniform. It was a fancy outfit. "Don't even think you're keeping this. Someone is going to rate the house, and you need to look good and act like you enjoy life. If you mess this up, you're going to regret it."
I put them on and stood up. Tamm combed my hair and put a conditioner in it. She dressed me and put on a variety of skin care products. I looked good, but in an evil mob boss kind of way. "You better not touch this, or mess it up. This is hundreds of dollars on you right now."
Soon, there was a ring from the doorbell, and inside came a real estate agent. I stood still and kept my head up beside Noah and Tamm, who were smiling. I wasn't smiling, though; my body hurt, and my back stung.
"Shall I look around at the place?" He said, holding a camera and a clipboard, writing down details about the house.
He checked almost everywhere, but not the basement and attic. Until it came to noticing me, and my emotions of depression. "Everything okay? Do you like this place? Do you think it's suitable for living in?"
"It's okay, I mean, probably not well to raise kids in." He stops and writes that down.
Noah and Tamm look at me angrily. "What did you say? You better restate that." Noah said quietly and firmly while the man was in another room.
"Well, I think I am done here. You got a good place, and it seems like it could last a while. It could go for... twelve million." He said while waving goodbye and walking out the door after passing them a paper with details.
When the door closed, they looked at me, almost as if they were ready to beat me with a bat. Then Tamm shoved the paper in my face so hard, my nose bled. "Are you happy with yourself. We got four point five stars because of you."
"I thought you would be smart and keep your mouth shut. But no, you had to make that statement." He walked to a closed, and pulled out a suitcase with a whip inside. He walked up to me and raised his arm. "Get on your knees, and bend."
"Please, I didn't mean to." I put my hands together, pleading. I didn't want this to happen, I couldn't take any more slashes. I might die of blood loss.
Then, one lash, and another, and another, and another. Tamm went to the kitchen and turned on the stove. I heard the sound of the whip hiding the flames, and what sounded like metal scraping. Then she came in with a hot branding iron, "Failure" label. The iron hissed red and smoked. Noah took it from her and pressed it on the back of my left shoulder. I threw up, feeling nauseous; this was the worst pain I had ever felt. I tried to scream, but Noah put a leather muzzle over my mouth to make sure I couldn't. When he took it off, my skin stuck to the metal like melted plastic. I fainted then, as my eyes closed, I was being dragged down the stairs, and I could feel it.
I woke up downstairs, feeling that my burnt skin wasn't pleasant, and I couldn't stand this any longer.