Cellar Door

There’s a moment of pause, my feet hesitant to move, as I stand in the middle of the chamber. Boards line a row of newly poured concrete. The remains of Myer and Keller being disposed of to add another addition to Luke’s cellar.

Past the half-erected walls, the sculptures of faces frozen in time amid brutal torture taunt me to look. I’ve tried hard not to—frightened to see what might become of me if I didn’t escape…

But even more terrified to come face to face with Hudson.

I’m sure he’s here, amid the sculptures, his likeness captured in eternal pain.

I look now. Walking through the warren of monuments, Luke’s shrines to death and revenge, I seek out the face of the man I once loved—the man who betrayed me.

As I study the faces, features frozen in torment, I realize it wasn’t enough that they’re dead—Luke had to immortalize the torture they suffered. So that he can relive the kills, knowing he punished the people who harmed his sister.

I look around, telling myself this isn’t my world. Whatever hell I thought I earned…I’ve already suffered. I looked my demon in the eye; I’m allowed to let go, to be free.

I’m leaving.

I take a step toward the spiral staircase, and a thump sounds.

The hollow noise echos through the cellar, encasing me in dread, and suddenly I can’t move. I wait…and the sound comes again. Louder.

I whirl around, my pulse careening against every artery. I force my legs to work, for my feet to take me back to the cellar door. I look inside, and Luke is still asleep on the cot.

A bang ricochets through the underground chamber, and my eyes well with tears. I’m frightened and angry, and I can’t control the emotions rushing me, as I shake my head. I’m not hearing it. It doesn’t exist. Once I leave this dark place, I’ll never hear it again.

But that’s a lie.

I know if I don’t follow the sound, if I don’t confront the fear, it will follow me just like this damn cellar—and I’ll never be free.

Freedom is knowing the truth.

Yes. It’s knowing the truth…and burying it in a deep grave and never giving it permission to see the light of day.

The noise becomes a steady drumbeat, guiding me with a haunted rhythm, as I make my way through the labyrinth of sculptures and blown glass orbs. When I come around the last half-amassed wall, my heart ceases to beat.

A door.

Not a way out. Another way in, deeper inside Luke’s twisted mind.

This door is different than the bare concrete one that held me captive for days. This door is intricate in design. Carved bone and…teeth. A swirled design emblazons the surface. It’s beautiful and, it’s a warning.

It’s very presence screams: Do not enter.

I clutch the keys in my hand.

I close my eyes for too long, waiting for the sound—and when it comes as a heavy boom that rattles my chest, I step forward.

I push the key into the lock and push down on the handle. The door groans open, and I hold my breath.

The sight within impales my chest with dread.

No.

I shake my head, no no no firing through my mind like a gunshot, and I don’t know if I’m saying it out loud, or if I’m screaming. The frantic gallop of my heart drowns out all other sound.

Hudson is strapped to a chair in the middle of a white room. His wrists bound by razor wire. His feet are encased in a block of concrete. Clear tubes feed into his arms, either keeping him hydrated or feeding him intravenously, I’m not sure. He’s pale—he’s barely recognizable, thin and sickly. A railroad spike penetrates one of his shoulders…his other shoulder is coated in dry blood. I think of the spike that Luke used to shackle me to the floor that first day, and a nauseous pang hits my stomach.

My world tilts.

Hudson’s throat displays the crude scar from where it was slashed. Haphazardly stitched together, the sight gruesome. Like a Frankenstein monster. Yes—just like a monster.