After a long and frustrating wait, just when I began to lose hope, one of the rats finally crept close. I could hear it sniffing around me, still cautious and alert of me.
The rats would normally come out looking for scraps. The plate I had from before was still here and they tended to linger there mostly. I had done nothing for the past days, so they knew I wasn't a threat.
My heart started to race as I fought to keep my breathing steady. I didn't want to do anything to cause it to run away. I eventually felt its warm breath on my toes.
This was it!
Without hesitation, I lunged, snatching the rat off the ground. It sank its teeth into my hand, but I held on. My legs were numb from sitting so long, so standing was slow. It felt heavy and forced.
I stared down at the rat, its tiny body squirming between my hands. I knew what had to be done, but the thought alone made bile rise to my throat.
Gritting my teeth, I shut my eyes and tightened my grip. Then I pinned it to the ground and stepped down hard on its head. Its skull gave way with a sickening crunch. Blood and brain matter splattered out beneath my heel, forming a crude, crimson star.
Eyes brimming with tears, I staggered up the stairs and cracked the door open. Memories of the last time I passed through that door clawed at me, and fear anchored me in place. I didn't dare to take a single step outside.
I slipped my arm through the gap, dropped the rat, and fled back down the stairs. Two hours later, the old woman returned with a plate. On it lay a perfectly fried rat.
Whether it was hunger or her twisted talent in the kitchen, I couldn't tell, but that rat smelled like something meant for a king. The aroma drifted up to my nose, rich, warm, and divine.
'I can finally eat!' I thought, practically drooling.
I rushed toward her, arms outstretched, eager to grab the plate, but before I could reach it, her hand snapped across my face.
Slap!
"Control yourself!" She scolded coldly. "We won't have you acting like an animal. I don't care how hungry you are; you keep those urges in check, or else you will stay hungry!"
She held the plate just out of reach, eyes sharp with judgment.
"Don't you understand? We've been given a second chance with you, Grayson. This is a good thing. We couldn't properly enjoy—" she paused, correcting herself, "—educate Michael. But with you…? It will be different."
That smile returned, the same spine-chilling grin the old man wore. It didn't match her voice. It didn't belong on a human face, I thought back then.
After a five-minute lecture on the importance of controlling my emotions, she finally placed the plate down and turned to leave. I didn't hear much of it, though.
"I'll continue to bring you water from time to time," she said, glancing back as the door creaked shut. "Make sure you keep those urges of yours in check when I return… or next time, I won't be so nice," she added.
Once again, I was alone. I stared at the plate in silence before slowly beginning to eat. I couldn't believe this was my life now, eating rats in my grandparents' basement.
But I didn't cry.
Not that day. Not anymore. My tears had dried up. All that remained was hunger. Hunger and the desperate need to survive.
From that day onward, everything revolved around my next meal.
For a while, that meant the same routine: wake up, hunt down a rat, and crush its head. Fortunately, over time, my senses sharpened. I would sleep to the sounds of rats, scratching at the wood. I became sensitive to their squirming.
After two months of this, I began to notice sounds others would miss—the soft skittering of claws, the faint squeaks behind the walls. I began to notice a pattern to their movements. I could predict where the rats would come from and what cracks they preferred.
I stopped waiting and started searching for them!
It was still difficult, but no longer felt impossible. They came out less after so many had died before. I could no longer wait for them.
I could hear them before they even emerged, tracking their steps through the walls. Patience was the key. I always had to be patient.
However, they adapted too!
Soon, they stopped using their usual paths. They avoided the cracks I'd ambushed before. I had to dig into the walls, gouging new openings with my bare hands just to stay ahead of them or trap them. My fingers bled and my nails fell off, but I had to keep going.
Because I was starving!
A week later, I realized crushing their skulls was wasteful and messy. Cleaning up their remains and stains was getting harder. So I switched methods. I began breaking their necks instead. It was efficient and clean.
Eventually, they started bringing me bigger prey. They would bring a cat once in a while and even brought a dog.
These were still not considered edible to me. So, at first, I hesitated for a day or two. However, the hunger always won.
The cats took some getting used to, but I was a little hesitant about killing a dog. They used to be one of the only things I still had love for. So, naturally, I failed to kill the first dog they brought to me and decided to keep it. I then began hunting for two mouths to feed.
I was only 5 years old and wasn't the most creative child. So, I decided to name my new friend 'Woof'.
At first, we lived off the rats and cats they brought down. However, for some unknown reason, they never brought down another dog.
I didn't pay it any mind, as it was good for me. I didn't have to kill something of the same species as my friend.
A week after getting Woof, I began to leave two rats by the door instead of one. Each time the old man would come down to drop another rat, I would hide in the bathroom with Woof. He was a playful dog, but he knew when to be quiet.
Woof made this whole experience so much more bearable; he gave me the much-needed love that I longed for. We ate together and hunted together, and he would always sleep by my side every night. That alone gave me the comfort to make me feel happy to wake in a basement the next day. Because I knew I was waking up next to Woof.
Some nights, I would find myself crying in my sleep, and Woof would lick the tears off my face and sleep even closer to me. This went on for 6 weeks, but the old man surely had already noticed by then that I had never brought the dog back up.
Perhaps, he always knew. In fact, I now believe he was counting on something to not return. There's no way he would have just let me keep Woof for so long without noticing and without a purpose. Woof could stay quiet when needed, but a dog is a dog. Once in a while there would be the occasional barking and howling.
Thus, as predicted, one day, the old man came down the stairs with a belt in his hand and the old hag following behind. Thinking that it was just another day when he would drop off a rat then leave, I hid in the bathroom with Woof as usual.
However, this day was different. Without warning, he opened the bathroom door, grabbed me by the back of the neck, and pulled me out. He threw me towards a wall and began to beat me senseless with his belt. All the while, I never cried once. This seemed to bother him and motivated him to beat me even harder.
Woof was growling and barking at the old pair the entire time. Then, he foolishly attempted to attack the old man. The old hag, however, got in the way and started to beat Woof with what seemed to be a metallic rod.
Once the old man had gotten tired of beating me, he then said the life-changing words that stuck with me to this day:
"Nothing you cherish in this world will last forever; you will only have fleeting moments of it. The only true constant is pain. This is something that everybody feels, even in their fleeting moments of happiness. Pain is not selfish; it does not choose one and leave the other. Pain is proof that you are alive and just like everyone else! Pain is for all and all is pain," the old man said with that same spine-chilling smile on his face.
"Burn these words into your mind, child, and make them your philosophy!" The hag then pointed at Woof. "Now kill it!"
She then threw the metallic rod at my feet. I looked at the rod on the ground, and without hesitating, I took it and tried to attack her with it. However, the old man was quick to react and caught the rod, snatching it from my hands. He beat me a few more times with the rod this time, then said, "You had your chance; now you will do it with your bare hands!"
I immediately got on my knees, crying and begging for forgiveness, but my plea fell on deaf ears.
The only response I got from him was, "Kill it! The only person you can rely on is yourself. Remember that boy... kill-it!"
"Please, don't make me do this. He is my only friend. I'll do something else. Anything else! I'll kill anything else you want me to kill. Just don't make me kill Woof!" I pleaded with tears now finally rolling down my cheeks and snot dripping from my nose.
The old man looked at me with a smile. Clearly amused by the sight of me finally crying.
"You may not get it right now, but one day you will, boy! It's either you or the dog!" the old man shouted all the while, beating me with the metallic rod and never losing his smile.
"STOOP STOP! I'll do it; I'LL DO IT!" I said, defeated.
I then walked up to Woof with a limp. He looked at me with pitiable eyes. Each of his legs were now broken or fractured. All he could do was whimper in pain. Seeing me come closer, he tried to get up but failed to do so with his injured legs. He looked pitiable.
'Maybe... maybe this is for the best,' I had thought.
I then wrapped my bruised hands around his neck and slowly tightened my grip. He did not resist in the slightest. I was unsure whether it was from his lack of strength to do so, or his reluctance to attack me. Perhaps the pain was too much and he just wanted to die.
"I can't!" I said to the old couple before receiving another strike to the back from the old man's belt.
SMACK!
I cried aloud from the strike...
Gritting my teeth, I finally pressed down on Woof's neck with the intention of killing him.
After a while, I could feel his pulse slowing down. His eyes widened and looked like they were about to bulge out. Tears came out of his eyes, but all the while he never resisted. His body wiggled and twitched uncontrollably until he was finally dead.
Tears ran down my face, like a river, as I held Woof's now lifeless body in my hands. On that frightful afternoon, I strangled the life out of the only friend I ever had. I looked up at the old couple with teary eyes and saw the most frightening, satisfied smiles on their faces. They then picked up Woof and headed up the stairs.
I wanted to retaliate. I wanted to kill the both of them right then and there! But I knew I couldn't. I knew that would just lead to me getting beaten. It hurt. My body hurt, my heart ached, and worst of all, all I could do was stay my hand and cry! All I could do was cry! It was suffocating!
"I'll be back with your lunch," the old hag said, patting the dead dog in her hands.
"AAAAAHHHH!" I screamed at them in tears.
I screamed my lungs out till I was out of breath. I was frustrated! I had cried all day and all night without eating or drinking. The pain of losing the last thing my sanity held on to hurt too much. I felt broken. Why should I keep eating? What was I living for? I asked myself these questions.
This pain was different from the physical abuse I had gotten accustomed to. It was consuming, suffocating, and made me feel like just giving up on everything...
What was I meant to do now? Was I to just give in to the hunger and wait for death?
"Why am I here? Why did my parents leave me here? How could Mama leave me here?" I asked myself.
'Mama and Baba! They brought me here. I would have never had to kill Woof if they didn't leave me here! This is their fault!' I suddenly thought to myself.
'I can't just die like this. Not after all I have been through. Ending it now would have made everything I went through meaningless, but more importantly, those stupid heads wouldn't even know what happened. They need to feel what I have felt. They need to pay!' I thought with resolve.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I began to search for rats. As I searched, I began to think for a reason I was kept down here. There had to be a meaning to all this. To why this had to happen to me.
The old man spoke about an enlightenment? As I rammaged through the holes in the wooden walls, I took note of the deafening silence. There was no longer the sound of Woof sniffing around for rats or the wagging of his tail or the panting of his breath. I was well and truly alone.
All I could feel was the pain all over my body and the suffocating aching in my heart.
I then took a deep breath. My tears finally stopped flowing, and I finally realized what the old man had been saying was true.
The only true constant is pain. It was the only thing I felt that never ended. This pain is the only thing that will always be with me; everything else will cease.
'It's good that I killed that mutt myself; it would have died anyway...at least it died on my terms. That's right, I probably did it a favor... everything ends! The sooner I accept that the easier the next kill will be...!' These thoughts went through my head at that time.
"Hahaha, they'll get it right? They just need to see the enlightenment, just like I did... Just like Woof did! Hahahaha, yes, this is what Woof wanted! That's why he didn't resist haa... haha... hahahaha..." I laughed hysterically as a tear rolled down my eye.
As I laughed, I finally caught hold of a fleeing rat. After wiping away my tear, I quickly broke the rat's neck. My life in the basement continued as usual after that day.
By the end of those two years, I came to realize the only person I needed to rely on was myself. My parents weren't coming to help me. They were the ones who left me there, and for what? Nothing but personal gain. One wanted knowledge and success, and the other wanted glory. As for me, I wanted what everybody wanted. I just wanted to live, and that's all I could do.
When the old couple brought down the dog, it was well decorated with a dip and vegetables. As if to add salt to the wound. I dug a hole into the wall and burried the dog meat within it. I then ate the vegetables to sustain myself and left the plate outside the basement door.
Two years had passed, and my mother finally came back. She stayed with us for about five months before leaving again to get her PhD. Seeing her for the first time after enduring this hell for so long....
I felt…nothing!
Nothing but hatred towards her. Hatred for leaving me there; hatred for her inability to save me from this hell; hatred for coming back to me with such a bright smile on her face.
Although I was feeling all these negative emotions towards her, I was calm and never acted on them. Not yet...