I wanted to scream at him, too, about how much I wished he was dead. How much I wished he would just drop down and die and be gone from this world and out of our lives for good. But I knew it would be the worst possible thing I could do in that moment if I ever wanted to see my sister again. He’d love that. He’d love the confrontation of it all and he’d love any excuse to beat the living, holy shit out of me right there in that cellar, for any anger and hate that I showed towards him.
So, I bit my tongue and said nothing. Not one little word did I utter, only nodded that I understood him perfectly. I was to sit and be quiet and remain still while waiting down there in the cold, dark, damp cellar for my sister’s return.
There was a long, silent, and uncomfortable pause before dad turned around to leave, locking the huge iron door behind him as he left. I wondered how long he’d let my mother live down here after my sister and I were born. I wondered at what stage of our infancy did she pass away. Had he killed her himself? With his own bare hands, on that mattress after he’d gotten what he needed from her? Us, I assumed—my twin sister and I. Well, that’s what it looked and felt like to me. But why us? And what had been wrong with the other babies? Why hadn’t they been kept alive or given a chance to grow up like us.
Holy shit. The freezer?
Everything rapidly flooded back to me like a gust of hurricane wind in my face. As my eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, I tried to look around for it. The cellar was a huge complex of empty stone-and-brick-walled rooms underneath the farm house. Each room was eerier, creepier and darker than the last.
I cautiously made my way from one room to the next until I eventually found the freezer again in the furthest away room from the main Iron door. Still exactly in its same spot from the last time we’d ventured down there.
The mattress was still in the same place too, but I didn’t want to get too close again and check if the skeleton was still hiding there. In the darkness, but with my eyes adjusting fast, I managed to pry open the lid of the freezer and glance inside, even though every ounce of blood and fibre in my being resisted for me to do so. But I had to check. I had to at least see if dad had kept his trophies, even after my sister and I had discovered them without his knowledge.
The freezer was empty.
For a second it made me question if those little bodies had ever been there in the first place. Had my sister and I just imagined it all? Surely not. Definitely not. Dad must have gotten rid of them since we were last here. Maybe they were buried out in the woods now too or thrown into the sea for fish food.
I shuddered at the thoughts running through my mind of what he’d done to those poor, defenceless little creatures. I closed the freezer and backed out of the room. I’d find some other spot down there to dwell in. But not that place. Not that room.
I tried to sleep in the back corner of another cold and dark room but it was almost impossible. The hard-stone floor was just so cold and uncomfortable. It was getting a little damp and wet too with the torrential rain from outside somehow finding its way into the cellar and onto the floor through the cracks in the side foundations.
My hunger returned with a vengeance. I couldn’t think how long it had been since I’d last eaten. With Chris back in the café, I think. I felt so damn thirsty too. The food I could do little about, but when the rain worsened in the early hours of the next morning, I was able to drink some dribbles of water coming in from the cracks of the concrete walls and ceiling above.
Just before sunrise, I heard my father walking around the ground floor of the house above me, probably getting ready for work. He didn’t even come down to see how I was doing or to bring me anything to eat, not that I expected him to make such a kind gesture. He was holding me captive, after all, and I had no idea regarding his full intentions with me.
To tell the truth, I didn’t want him to come back down to the cellar to see me. I didn’t wish to see him again, full stop. In fact, I’d be happier if I’d never had to look him in his cold and heartless eyes ever again.
The following day passed by so painfully slow. It seemed to drag on for such an eternity without incident nor sound. Nothing creaked or groaned from above. Nothing moved or made a sound in the darkness. The rain and the wind seemed to have died out altogether. Only my own breathing and subtle, weak movements seemed to disturb the silent darkness every once in a while.
I felt glad that I was able to at least walk around freely down there and that I wasn’t still stuck in that horrible, suffocating grave, unable to move or scream or cry out, or even think straight. Even though I’d only exchanged one prison for another, I felt eternally grateful to be holed up in this much more spacious one, now that I’d had the time to regain my wits and composure.
I kept wishing that my sister would hurry up though. That she would somehow find a way to rush back to the house and rescue me, whisking me far away from this hell before my father returned to vent his wrath and fury and punish us further in some other torturous way.
I knew my sister though. I knew that she would find a way back to me, by hook or by crook, by manipulation or by force. But she wouldn’t come straight to the house. No. I feared that much. She’d head straight for the forest. Straight for the grave that she still believed I was lying and buried within. And when she didn’t find me there…then what? She’d finally come home, back to this humble adobe, that’s what. She’d want to find dad and find out from the horse’s mouth what he’d done with me. Where I’d gone? And why he had dug me up and taken me away.
What would happen next, I couldn’t be so sure.
Perhaps this place was to be my new home for the foreseeable future. Down there in the dark. While my sister would go about her daily life in the house above and I rotted away down here like a starving, dirty, little mangy rat.
Would my sister really let that happen though? Would she?
I had to believe that the answer to that was no. I had to. I just had to. With all my heart and soul, I had to hope that she would come and save me, somehow. Surely, she would find a way.
As the day limped on, my eyes began to adjust more to the darkness and I found myself just about seeing from one end of the cellar room I had called my new home, all the way through to the next doorway.
The ground beneath my feet was solid concrete, but the edges of the cellar walls were a mixture of stone and dirt, and I eventually found some worms in amongst the mix.
Begrudgingly, I ate them. I ate them all. I found some beetles too and a few large spiders in some of the darkest and dampest corners of the rooms. I’d seen my sister on countless occasions finding then eating spiders. She’d always enjoyed slowly ripping their legs apart from their bulging fat bodies, one my one, before shoving them into her mouth and chewing them up like they were tastier than a pack of chocolate buttons.
I always swore that I’d never do such a disgusting thing like eating a spider. Ever. Not even if my life depended upon it. It was disgusting and made my skin absolutely shiver and crawl. But desperate times called for desperate measures. I wasn’t too sure if my life depended on it just yet, but I found myself there, nonetheless.
I didn’t even think about it. I just grabbed its darting, creepy little body, as quickly as I could, clutching it hard in between my fingers and hands. I shoved the little buggers into my mouth whole, without even a second thought, twitching legs and all.
I must have eaten about ten of the horrid little beasties in total by the time evening came around and I heard my father’s car pull up in front of the house. When he stepped out of the car and walked towards the front door, my little heart sank to the pit of my stomach. I knew it was him but I wished upon a thousand falling stars that it would have been my sister instead.
I soon heard him cooking in the kitchen, then singing along to the blaring radio. I tried to cover my ears but it didn’t do any good. I could still hear his horrendous and vile singing, and my hatred for him was boiling and bubbling into overdrive.
I list
ened as he ate his meal in the living room before returning to the kitchen to wash his dishes. When he was done cleaning up, I heard him move faintly up to the first floor of the house.
After that he went silent for a very long time.
Chapter 20
Deep into the darkest hour of the night, just as I was just about to drift off up against the most comfortable bit of stone dirt wall I could find, I heard someone’s frantic footsteps running up towards the farmhouse. At first, I thought I was dreaming. But my ears pricked up and I sat upright, alert and stiff. I heard the front door swing open, followed by more frantic footsteps on the creaking wooden floors above. In a heartbeat I knew it was her. My sister had returned and it had only been around three or four full days, I think.
I felt so overjoyed and with what little strength I had left in my body I jumped immediately onto my feet. I wanted to shout out to her that I was all right, that I was down in the cellar. I wanted to cry out her name so, so much but at the same time I restrained myself from doing so. My father was still upstairs. If he heard me, then I truly believed there was no telling what he might do to me or to her.
I heard my sister approach the main stairs leading up to the first floor of the house. I heard her call out my father’s name. A long silent pause filled the air. At the second time of calling out for him, I finally heard him shouting back from the top of the upstairs landing. He seemed to be in relatively good spirits. Chuffed to bits that she’d made it all the way back to our home in such a short space of time too.
I heard my sister cutting him off, though, which was uncharacteristic for her, and asking about my whereabouts. He probably wouldn’t have liked that very much. In my mind’s eye, I could see his smug smile turning into a miserable frown. Before he could even answer, I heard my sister say to him that she’d been to the woods already. That she’d seen the dug-up, empty grave. She wanted to know what he’d done to me. She wanted to know if I was still alive.
He told her to calm the hell down. He told her I was safe and sound. That she would see me soon enough. Sooner than she thought, in fact. When she demanded to know exactly where I was, he coolly and calmly stated that he had me locked away down in the basement for safe keeping until she’d returned. I felt surprised that he’d made that admission so open and freely. It made me even more cautious and suspicious of his intentions regarding both of our wellbeing. It made me wonder what cruel and twisted games he was going to play next? I honestly didn’t have a clue. I was at a stalemate.
I heard my dad slowly dismount the main stairs of the house. He told my sister that she should go to the kitchen and have something to eat first. That he’d cooked a meal for both of us earlier and that she should take it down to the basement and eat it with me.
I held my breath as I heard them enter the kitchen. I heard the plates being shoved into the microwave. I heard the microwave being turned on, full power. I heard my sister and dad talking more, yet, because of the microwave’s constant humming, I couldn’t hear a damn word of what they were saying. I heard my father raise his voice a few times, but still I couldn’t hear what was being discussed.
Someone finally took the plates out of the microwave oven. I think it was dad who grabbed them and handed them over to my sister. I heard their footsteps moving towards the hidden cellar entrance. I followed their sound until I reached the locked iron door in the middle of the dark basement.
I heard their footsteps coming down the narrow staircase. Coming down towards me. I heard the squeaky, rusted bolts being yanked back on the door frame. The sound of the huge iron key in the lock. I took a few steps back. The door creaked open. I silently hid behind the open doorway of the room, directly opposite the iron door. I held my breath again as I peeked through the darkness.
My sister’s shadow stepped inside. The dim light from the staircase beyond her was like a brief sunrise in the basement darkness. It lit up almost every nook and cranny in its path. The door was swiftly sealed and bolted shut again. The darkness returned as the sound of father’s footsteps mounted the stairs, back up towards the main house.
I stepped out from the doorway. I saw my sister standing in front of the iron door, holding two plates of potatoes and beef stew. She turned in my direction when she heard my movements, but she couldn’t see me at that moment. Her eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the pitch-black cellar darkness like mine had.
Suddenly, she spoke.
“Are ye there, sis?”
I took a long time to answer. I felt so ecstatic just to hear her. So, over the moon just to hear her stiff, bold voice. This had been the longest we’d ever been kept apart. I imagined hugging her hard, then crying and sobbing into each other’s arms. But the way we’d been brought up over the years—to show no emotion, no empathy, even towards the ones closest to us—I knew my sister would be reluctant to make such an emotional reunion.
“I’m here,” I finally said, edging a few more steps closer towards her.
“Here. Take the plate. This for you,” she stated so causal, like she’d never been away and had been down in that dark, grimy cellar with me that whole entire time.
I did as she asked and took the plate from her hands.
“Can ye take mines tae?” she asked. “Ah have a lighter and a candle in ma pocket. A bottle of water tae. If ye hold ma plate ah can get them.”
I did as she asked and held her plate with my other hand.
I watched as she pulled out a candle and a lighter from one of her jacket pockets. Only it wasn’t her jacket at all. It was new. She hadn’t been wearing it the last time I’d seen her while digging my grave.
“Nice jacket,” I casually stated as she sparked the lighter three times before finally being able to light the candle.
“Ah stole it yesterday. On the way back doon fae the Island.”
“You were fast,” I replied. The candle lit up the surrounding basement corridor. With the new light, we both paused for a few moments and stared at each other, deep into one another’s eyes. From the neck up, even though she was a little taller than me, it was like glancing into a mirror. Her face looked so dirty. Probably just as dirty as mine. Eventually, we both smiled warmly.
“Your face is so filthy,” I said.
“Ah was thinking the same thing aboot you.”
We both smiled at that.
“Come on then, sis,” she said, before walking casually past me and stepping into the room that I was lurking in the doorway of. “Let’s sit doon and eat. Am hungry as fuck and am sure we have a lot of things tae chat aboot.”
I’d forgotten how alike she was with our father. Not just by the way she acted, but by the way she sounded too. From her aggressive and alpha body language to the way she spoke without fear. Like every word she uttered had some kind of meaning or importance.
I followed her with the plates of stew. We sat down opposite each other in the middle of the cold, hard room. My sister pulled out a bottle of water from her other pocket and left it standing between our seated bodies. She pulled out two forks and handed me one. I thanked her and took mine. I began to eat. My sister started eating too, fork in one hand, lighted candle in the other.
“How did you make it back here so fast?” I asked between spoonful’s of stew that I couldn’t shove into my mouth quick enough. I was so damn hungry.
“Ah just snuck back on board that ferry again,” she said like it had been no hassle at all. And it probably wasn’t. “Aye, it was pretty easy. Once ah reached the mainland ah walked fur a wee bit. Then ah stole a car fae some family of dozy cunt tourists who were oot havin’ a wee picnic nearby.”
“Jesus Christ,” I uttered. Shocked that she went against my father’s wishes and did something so bold and illegal like that, which wouldn’t just bring attention to her but to us, to our own father even. “I thought dad said not to do anything like that. Nothing to draw attention. Keep your head down.”
“Fuck him!” she said with a mischievous grin. I felt genuinely shocked by her stat
ement. “Ah had to get back hame tae ma sis. And besides, if he didnae want us drawing any attention tae oorselves then he shouldnae have dumped us in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere and asked us tae find oor way back hame again.”
I gently shook my head and continued to eat. I’d never heard my sister talk like that about dad before. To talk so down on him. To criticise him. She seemed genuinely pissed with him too. Was she now suddenly beginning to see the light also? Was she finally seeing my father in the way in which I saw him? An absolute bloody sadistic lunatic who shouldn’t be allowed on the same planet as children, let alone able to raise and parent them.
There were no further words spoken between my sister and I for quite some time. Well, not until we’d both finished our meals, wiped our mouths, and drank some water. My sister pulled out her huge hunting knife that was strapped onto her belt at the back of her trousers. She placed the knife gently down upon the hard-concrete floor. I didn’t fully understand why she’d done that at first. I thought it might just be uncomfortable for her to have it tucked up into her belt while she sat and ate.
“Ye have tae kill me sis?” she suddenly said, flat and with no emotion and completely out of the blue. I felt totally taken back. Utterly shocked. I couldn’t believe what she’d just said. I felt extremely rocked to my core by her bizarre, random, and matter-of-fact statement. Had I misheard her?
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” I finally stuttered.
“Dad says that only one of us can leave this place now. He wants either me tae kill ye or ye tae kill me. He said he only wants the strongest of us to walk oot of here alive.”
Again, I was totally lost for words. Struck dumb with disbelief.
“What the hell are you talking about?’ I protested again. “We can’t kill each other. That’s absurd!”
“He expects it tae be me tae be the one who walks oot of this cellar alive, sis, and your dead body tae be left tae rot doon here with the dust, dirt and the creepy crawlies. He knows, in fact, he’s convinced, that when it comes doon tae it, ah will go through with whatever he asks of me now.”
My Sister And I: A dark, violent, gripping and twisted tale of horrifying terror in the Scottish Highlands. Page 17
