Unknown P.O.V

There is that time when you want to give up, when you are at your lowest point not knowing whether you are going to get back up or not and you do something that even shocks yourself, you defy all odds and pull yourself back together. It isn't those around you that make you weaker or stronger, it's the situations and how you interpt them that changes the cards you can deal and determines who wins.

Play your cards right before you run out of chances to succeed.

True P.O.V

The basement was the place that I can think back and only have bad memories everywhere else, regardless of how bad something happened there, I can remember a moment in my life where it wasn't as bad or evil. I can't say the same about the basement. I had been ten the first time I went down those steps, my father was gripping my upper right arm so tightly that I lost feeling in my fingers and was left with a bruise that remained for three weeks.

I can only remember fear and pain, that's the only thing that comes to mind when the basement comes with it. Fear. Terror. Those were like a second nature when the basement came into play.

When I was younger, I wondered what was in the basement, was it magic, treasure, gold? I didn't anticipate that it was a torture room.

I also wondered why my siblings were never dragged down there like me. What had done to anyone that my father felt the need to drag me down to the basement and beat me? Why take it out only on me? What were my siblings doing to avoid this kind of punishment; a punishment I didn't even know what was for.

There was one other thing I thought about when I was in my darker moments.

How no one noticed.

You'd think with a family the size of mine that at least one of my siblings would pass by the basement, which is right next to the kitchen and see me being dragged down with dad. You'd hear me scream in pain, you'd think someone would have heard or seen.

I guess I'm wrong in that. Maybe they were ignoring it.

If you never see it, it never happened.

Right?

Is that the logic my family lives by? If they don't see dad beating with a belt than it isn't happening? Or someone is watching a horror movie to loudly and is replaying the screaming part over and over and over again.

I like to hope they simply didn't know.

But I think they did.

I know my family is in and out of this house, but they aren't deaf, they must have been home at least once when I was dragged down to this hell hole.

I can't figure out which is worse, them ignoring it or the fact they maybe potentionally allowing it to happen.

But what I want to believe that matters, it's the truth. The truth hurts, but lies hurt so much more.

If you asked me, when I was maybe six, what I wanted to be when I grew up, I'd point at dad. So naive. If you asked me when I was eight, I'd point at Chris. If you asked me now, I'd point at a ground.

In the ground, six feet under.

The basement steps were exactly as I remember them being, not a thing looked different from the last times I came down here, sure somethings look like they had been moved but nothing was completely out of place, I wasn't to sure what exact was about to happen. For a moment I dazed out, at that one moment, I didn't care what happened as I was hit with a relevation.

I was still alive, I broke my New Years Resolution.

Oh well, there's always next year.

Dad's hand was still wrapped around my waist and the other around my neck blocking noise from coming out of my mouth, I was unable to do anything, but my dad could never stop me from crying. I would always have the power to cry.

I am so sick of crying.

It's something that you can easily get sick of, and yet it keeps returning, time after time, crying is always there for you, whether you want it or not.

My eyes scanned the room, which was kind of difficult as tears were blurring my vision really badly. Everything was the same, why did I want something to be different, I didn't know why, maybe it was because I wanted someone to save me, or to get away from this without dad doing anything to me, especially with how he touched me not moments earlier, that had scared me beyond compare and I wasn't about to let him do anything to me that way.

Dad released me, pushing me forwards towards the chains on the wall, blood still pouring down from my nose, lighter now as it had been pouring for quiet a while and I had felt light headed walking down the stairs, more like pushed down the stairs, and I felt better now, not so much like I'm going to pass out and more so that I'm about to be killed and no one will ever check in the basement because no one cares enough to look for my body.

I wasn't expecting it when his fist came out and punched me yet again, but this time in the jaw, and I felt blood fill my mouth almost instantly, which caused me to drop to my knees, and begin to cough up blood in a steady stream.

"Weak." Dad said completely confident in himself, strolling over to me, despite his previous injuries given to him at the hands of the mafia, and probably directly by Alisters hands making me question how my father was even still alive because seriously, this man should probably be dead.

"Dad you down there?" A voice yelled down the basement stairs, and my head snapped up instantly, tears streaming down my face and blood pouring out of my mouth and nose. I looked at dad, and he looked at me, and time froze for a second, nothing moved except the gears in my brains.

Everytime I had never opened my mouth, never called for help, I never had the courage too, didn't think anyone would care, but that was before and at that one moment, courage concord all, temporarily numbing my pain.

"C-Chris!" I yelled for my older brother, my voice sounding desperate and full of fear, I sounded so damn fragile, I sounded weak, and all the pain came rushing back to me when dads foot came crashing into my head, knocking me down again. My vision blurred but not because of tears. I heard the sound of steps rushing down tha stairs and I knew in that one instant that it was Chris.

My vision cleared just as I was Chris finally get view of the entire scene. Me laying on the florr bloody next to a wall with chains on it, and the entire basement looking like it was made for torture and dad covered in my blood and tears.

I can question what happened in the next couple seconds but everything was blurry, but was more from tears and everything cleared when I heard one thing. A gun shot.

For a moment fear went through me that it was Chris that had been shot, that dad had shot his favorite son, but it was the opposite, Chris shot dad.

Dad immediately fell to the ground, a hole clearly on his chest and I knew the second he breathed it, it had gone straight through his chest cavity. Blood immediately poured from his chest in a steady pool and blood began to come out of his mouth as he began to choke of blood and gasping for air. A panic set through me. How would anyone deal with this? How would mom cope? Bryan? The twins?

It took about four minutes before I heard dad stop gasping for air, stop moving, stop breathing. He was gone.

Chris dropped his gun and rushed over to me, and scooped me into his arms, and I rested my head on his chest as he carried me bridal style out of that basement, a place I wish I never have to step foot in ever again.

Chris carried me into his room, and sat us down on the floor and he hugged me tight, and let me cry my eyes out whispering sweet nothings into my ears but I only heard one of the things he said.

I'm sorry for not noticing.