July 12, 2004, Charleston, West Virginia
Leon was adopted into a wealthy family. His parents, Noah and Tamm Parsey, abused him all the time over really small things, like not being able to get a simple task done. Leon was punished with harsh beatings and sometimes lashings from a leather whip. Noah didn't give a damn about him, showing with the contact of a leather whip. It hurt, always hurt. Even as a baby, they would underfeed him, and Tamm would often think about smothering him with a pillow. In their eyes, they didn't love him; rather, they had him as a slave child. Each time over the years, for every birthday, I got a lash from the whip on his back just to show they wished they had never taken him in. Every scar marked a year of surviving with them.
Leon was home-schooled, not because they wanted to teach him, but because it was required by law. His "Parents" couldn't be bothered to care for him, because his mother was Puetero Rican, yet he was pale, which made him look abnormal. Noah and Tamm both kept their past from him, told him that he was found in a box on the side of a road, but he didn't think they were serious about it.
The thought of ever going outside questioned him; the only thing he knew was more people and nature. Leon heard about animals and how they were kept in cages or behind fences, eaten, or farmed. Perhaps he and nature weren't so far apart, just as cruel because of the lack of freedom in this "corrupted" world.
I eventually turned 17, almost getting kicked out of the house, stripped clean of everything they had given me. They celebrated his second-to-last year there by giving me the day to clean the house. I swept, I mopped, and I bled. The only reward I ever got was what I needed to survive: food, hygiene, and clothes. I can't say I wasn't thankful. Sometimes I felt like they might have secretly cared for me...I don't know, to be honest, but I could keep dreaming.
During the night, I slept on a cold stone floor in their boiler room, because they couldn't stand letting me have a real one. Both of them would stuff me in any place they could. I could hear rats scurrying on the floor, sometimes under my feet. The place smelled of feces and mold, and that meant I was being forced to clean this place up before I knew it. Of course, I was going to have a better environment... well, until the mess comes back.
Noah stood over me with cold eyes, making sure I was working the way he wanted. If I were to slow, I would get a lash from the whip.
"I hope you learn how to live down here for the remainder of your time here," Said Noah. He walked back up the stairs, leaving me down here alone without looking back. I felt the disappointed tone deep in his voice; it was like I didn't do well enough.
"Why was I born, to suffer or to live? There is a difference between the two, but both had their place in my life; I have achieved both in the worst ways possible." I thought to myself, lying on my back, the skin stuck to the floor, as my blood treated itself as glue. If I died from infection, then so be it. At least I have a chance to escape this hell.
"Leon, get up here, it's time for dinner," Tamm yelled down at me with a demand.
Food? It felt like every time I heard the word, it fed me with relief, whether or not it was the usual cold food or scraps I was given. Do you want to know what's strange? I never got too skinny, or too stuffed, I didn't always feel like I was...human. I walked up the stairs and sat at the long dinner table. My seat was creaky and dusty. I rarely got to sit at all. Today felt like they lost their touch; they seemed softer. In front of me was an unusually okay meal, at least it looked like it: a strange soup.
"You're leaving in 8 months, Leon. Soon, we will no longer have to deal with you or your depressing attitude." Said she. She held her knife and fork, taking a bite, chewing the food. She had Steak and potatoes on her plate.
"What's in it?" I said while staring at the bowl. I'm moving the spoon sitting on it, seeing a long, stringy tail. It was a rat's tail. Gross, never would I eat meat; I was more of a vegetarian.
"Don't be rude. She got out of her way to give you food, and that's how you act? This is why you are worthless." Noah yelled at me, pointing the knife in my general direction. " ...Fine, stave. We couldn't care less. We're rich, we can bail ourselves out of trouble if you pass."
I was starving, but this was just gross. I couldn't eat this; I felt like a herbivore being fed meat. Everything felt so unsanitary. But I took the spoon and... put it beside the bowl. "I am not hungry."
Tamm snapped and pounded the table. "You ungrateful little shit," She pointed at Noah and then to the basement. "Put him in the cellar, for once we gave something. Oh, it's a rat, I couldn't eat that because I am too perfect!"
"Now, you've done it." He got up and grabbed my shirt collar. I was being pulled down stairs and into the wine cellar. He opened the door and shoved me in. Why did I just take this and let them push me around? That's because I couldn't drive myself to fight back.
For a whole night, the only thing I could hear was him locking the door. I have little to no room to lie down in. I could only huddle against the wall. Spiders, centipedes; they crawled onto me. I got used to being put in here so much that I lost the fear of the dark or what crawled in it. I could only cry and accept the torture. Sometimes I even thought that they might not be my real parents.
It was morning, and there was a knock on the door. "Wake up, and get to work." I opened my eyes. The door was open, and Tamm was standing there. In her hand was a mop and bucket. "Clean the basement, and you will get a good meal."
"Was I supposed to believe that, or was she just lying to motivate me?" Either way, I didn't have a choice. Can I ever enjoy a sweet moment of daylight, or keep imagining?
I scrub the floor and ring out the mop for an hour. When I was done. Tamm threw me a loaf of bread; it smelled good, so I let my hunger get the better of me and ate it down fast. It wasn't a meal, but it felt like I hadn't eaten in a month or a week.
"Look at him, he thinks he's done well," Noah whispered to Tamm. "Time to tell him what the pans are for today?"
Tamm nodded and held a uniform. It was a fancy outfit. "Don't worry, this suit is only temporary for you, so don't act as if we gifted you something. Someone is going to rate the house, and you need to look shipshape. I want people to think you like living in this home. If you mess this up, you're going to regret it, boy!"
I put them on and stood up. Tamm combed my hair and put conditioner in it. She dressed me and put on a variety of skin care products. I looked like a dirty drug lord who kidnapped kids, not different from Noah. "You better not touch this, or mess it up. This is hundreds of dollars on your face right now. Skin care now is way too expensive."
Soon, there was a ring from the doorbell, and inside came a real estate agent. I stood still and kept my head up beside Noah and Tamm, who were smiling. My body hurt, and my back stung as the chemicals seeped into my lashes.
"Shall I look around at the place?" He said, holding a camera and a clipboard, writing down details about the house. I knew Noah was getting impatient with the thoughts; all he could think about was how high a price they would get from this.
He checked almost everywhere, in every room, except the basement or attic, which were the least observed. I guess those parts weren't as important. Until it came to noticing me, and my emotions of depression. "Everything okay? Do you like this place? Do you think it's suitable for living in?"
My lips were sealed until Noah approved my speech with a subtle nod. "Hey, everything alright, kid? Are you hurt? Is there a large cut on your shoulder?" He gives a glance at my shoulder, then at my "parents".
Noah instantly responds, both extremely nervous. "He tripped earlier, he cut himeslef in a lose floorbored in the attic, it's nothing really!" I nod, not in agreement, but because of the pressure they were giving me.
"Okay then, I guess all that's left is your review of this place...tell me, do you think this is a nice home to live in?" He said.
"It's okay, I mean, probably not well to raise kids in...or a family at all. As I don't seem very happy here anyway," He stops and writes that down.
Noah and Tamm look at me angrily, but I whisper. "What did you say? Are you trying to make this house look unlivable!? You'd better restate that, boy." Noah yelled loudly and firmly.
"Well, I think I am done here. You got a good place, and it seems like it could last a while. It could go for... twelve million for nine thousand square feet." He said while waving goodbye and walking out the door after passing them a paper with details, even though they were satisfied, they looked to me.
When the door closed, they looked at me, almost as if they were ready to beat me with a bat. Then Tamm shoved the paper in my face so hard that my nose bled. "Are you happy with yourself. We got four point five stars because of you, for point five, if you had said anything else, we could have gotten a better rating. Ugh, you're lucky you're still a kid."
"Maybe if you two rude assholes who treated me like garbage, I would make this easy for you, and I think your home is just fine to be sold, what's wrong with four point five stars?" I said.
"Are you being a smart ass child? Every nice thing we do for you, and you are ungrateful for it." Said Tamm. I could tell that she was pissed off. Obviously.
"I thought you would be smart and keep your mouth shut. But no, you had to make that statement." He walked to a closed door and pulled out a suitcase with a whip inside. He walked up to me and raised his arm. "Get on your knees, I want your back facing me."
"Oh boy, do we have the tools to hurt you badly. After this, we'll see if you talk back to us." Said Tamm. "I can wait to see you in agony."
"Do your worst!" I put my hands together. I didn't want this to happen. I couldn't take any more slashes. I might die of blood loss or shock, but I wasn't going to show weakness anymore.
Noah tore his expensive shirt off me, whiped me with one lash, and another, and another, and another. Tamm went to the kitchen and turned on the stove. I heard the sound of the whip hiding the flames, and what sounded like metal scraping. Then she came in with a hot branding iron, "Failure" label. The iron hissed red and smoked. Noah took it from her and pressed it on the back of my left shoulder. I threw up, feeling nauseous; this was the worst pain I had ever felt. I tried to scream, but Noah put his hands over my mouth to make sure I couldn't. When he took it off, my skin stuck to the metal like melted plastic, some dead tissue hanging like melted rubber. I fainted then, as my eyes closed, I was being dragged down the stairs, and I could feel it.
I woke up downstairs, feeling that my burnt skin wasn't pleasant, and I couldn't stand this any longer. The scar was black and hardened. I would never forget this.