Frank Sinatra, I adore him. I put on my record player on the highest volume. I sang with the ironically fitting lyrics from his song 'That's Life' and painted a setting of a winter wonderland. Of course, I added my signature motive, and painted an abnormal creature in the far corner of the picture, almost hidden.

It's what I'm known for as an artist. It's my own little boost of originality. Which would be humiliating if I ever said that out loud to anyone. I prefer to keep my attempt at original an original secret.

It's also incredibly childish which is why I keep the secret little creatures blended in, and hidden.

The music was so loud that I nearly hadn't heard the doorbell ring. I quickly shut off the record player, and ran to the door, I never expect company, so when I actually get it, I panic. Looking out through the window to see who it was, I saw three figures, a boy, a little girl, and an older woman. I've seen them before, I think they may even be my neighbors.

I unlocked the door, and opened it just wide enough for my head to poke out. The last thing I wanted was for these people to see how messy I've been keeping the house. Mourning, and depression leaves little room to actually clean.

The lady smiled at me, and the other two looked as though they'd rather be anywhere else but here. "Hello there, you must be Ripley." She said, with a tone that was as fake as her eyelashes. I immediately wondered if these people wanted something from me, and if so, what.

"Yeah, you're the lady who lives next door, right?" I say, hoping I haven't just made a fool of myself by not knowing who my neighbors are.

She nodded, "Yep," She pointed to the boy and girl beside her, "This is my son, Levi, and my daughter Selena." They both waved and mumbled really poor hellos. I felt the same way they did. "I'm Allison, we've never met, so I decided to introduce ourselves."

If this woman thought this was an act of kindness, she was wasting her time.

I don't appreciate the annoying motive of 'love your neighbor as yourself' because I don't want their love, and I don't want to love them, even if they are literally my neighbors.

I want them to go away and leave me to die in my eternal hell of solitude and misery, and with the monster in my basement.

I rose my hand up and gave a weak wave towards the three of them.

"We just wanted to come by and offer you to dinner sometime, or maybe Levi can come over and help you if you are having any trouble with the house."

I glance up at Levi, who seemed to be slightly older than me. College student, probably. He was incredibly tall, and definitely not handsome. His hair was greasy and long, and he had dirt underneath his nails which made me choke back a gag.

"That's kind of you." I said in a tone a little flatter than I should have, "But no thank you, I can manage on my own." I then politely nodded to them, indicating that I was done with this useless conversation and shut the door on them.

I returned to the record player, and abused the volume to it's highest setting once more. I sang along with Sinatra for the rest of the evening, not caring about anything, because my father is dead, Frank Sinatra is dead, and the creature in the basement just won't die.

I woke up by him. I glanced at the clock that sat on my nightstand; 4:32 in the morning. I heard it so clearly, though I was on the second floor of the house, and he was in the basement.

The vents, I can hear him through the vents. The rattling and clinging of his chains, he's more active than usual. Was it because I forgot to feed him yesterday?

That was a lie; I didn't forget, I just chickened out. I can't continue doing that. The guilt will eat me alive more so than the fear.

He must be upset, hungry, maybe he's afraid he might not eat for another week and a half like before. Or he's pissed, and in that case, I don't want to go down there.

I waited in my bed for forty minutes, non-stop I heard the chains moving, hitting things, and my mind was racing on what he could possibly be doing.

Finally, I sat up, and put on a sweater. I stomped down the stairs as loud as I could, to show him that he's pissing me off, when in reality I was scared out of my mind. When I unlocked the basement door, the noises stopped. Everything fell dead silent, and my heart dropped to the floor. My lungs were burning for air to breathe, but my anxiety wouldn't give it to them.

I walked down the stairs to the lab, and grabbed another syringe of medicine off the metal counter. Walking up to his cell, I began hearing a sound I've never heard him make before. It almost sounded as if he were suffocating.

I quickly unlocked the cell door, and looked in. To my horror, I saw him on his hands and knees, coughing up black liquid -the mysterious black virus- all over the floor. It was so bizarre, as it were dripping on his lips, and his nose as if it were a nosebleed, and even his eyes, it looked like he were crying black tears.

I was stunned at the sight, only hearing his sudden gasp for breath did I break out of my trance and run over to him. I quickly stabbed him with the syringe and injected him with the medicine.

My father said something regarding the medicine, claiming it was 'an absolute necessity' for Ellie to consume or his body will not just fail, but deteriorate into unsolid fleshiness. His body can not survive without it, and honestly, I don't even know what his body is made out of. I don't want to know.

He must have gone into panic-mode after not have been given medicine for so long and then missing yesterday. Could this have been his version of a panic attack? Or was something seriously wrong? I wasn't as smart as my father, I knew nothing about science, or creating living beings out of non-living things. If something was wrong with Ellie, I am not sure I'd know how to help him.

The sick, twisted part of me wondered what would happen if I wait another week and a half. Would he finally die? Would I finally be rid of him for good?

Could I live with myself if I let him suffer in fear, starvation, and pain like that?

No, I don't think I could.

I took a deep breath, noticing how his eyes were stained black from the toxic liquid. How dead he looked, but he didn't look innocent. He looked like a creature, and my heart felt as though it was being stabbed at the sight of him.

I still can't force myself to let him die. I can't leave him to drown in his own fear.

"I don't understand any of this." I told him, referring to the black liquid which was now all over the floor thanks to his consistent throw up. I looked at him, the expression of frantic panic changed to a more relaxed state. The medicine must have taken the pain away, because he was now calm.

I put on some rubber gloves, and grabbed a bucket and cleaned the black liquid out of his cell. Afterwards, I put warm water on a rag and leaned close to him. He was watching my every move, but didn't move a muscle himself as he leaned exhausted against the cell wall.

"One of us has got to do it." I stated obviously, as I extended my arm with the rag in my hand, "Either you wipe the black off your eyes, or I do."

Silence.

We locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity, "Fine." I sighed, "You probably can't even understand me anyway." I brought the rag over to his face, and gently wiped the black toxic mystery off. I don't know what scares me most, the fact that he was letting me do this, or that he and I both knew I was in his reach to kill at any moment.

He's not attacking me for a reason -is it because he knows he'll die too if I die? I'm the only one who knows he even exists now. He's still not strong enough to overpower the chains, but even my father said eventually he'll be stronger than metal as thin as the chains binding him.

That thought alone should make me want to stop feeding him for good, and yet, as our eyes met, I found myself wondering if I could do more than just take care of him, perhaps one day, I can learn to care for him too.