“OW” I yelled when the brown rough box came barreling at me. And with one thunk and a killer head ache, it landed right on my now pink and purple head.

“God damn new house. God damn old fucking owners that didn’t clean out their fucking shit!” I rant, kicking the hard box and stumb my toe with a yelp. A weak sigh escapes my lips as I take a couple deep breaths and deafetedly pack up the box again. I pay no mind to the contents, it’ll all get sent to a landfill anyways. The corners are smooshed in with dents from where it attacked my head and taking a belly flop to the floor._ _After almost all the contents are merccililess shoved into the crumpled box, I notice something different. A rough paper scratching at my fingers, and cool rings biting at my fingers. It’s a notebook. A dusty, grimey, old notebook. My lips make an _O_ as I push air through them, blowing off the dust. When the dust clears from it’s old home into the air, I see a silky name written in red paint. 

_“This notebook belongs to: Malfred Vinny, Please return if lost.”_ _	_“Malfred Vinny huh..? Probably borgusie jerk.” I mutter flipping the old notebook open to the first brownish yellow page. The paper is corse and friglie between my fingers. Red-ish brown paint soaks the first page with sloppy writing.

_“My name is Malfred Vinny. Son of Martha and Stewart Vinny. But here, in this damp cold basement names are only a concept to make one feel better. My wrist is burning from the chain clamping down on it yet there isn’t much to do about it. There’s another locked down here with me, a female. I know not her name, but only that she is sweet. She allows me to use the blood from her wounds to write. I would be heartbroken without it. I shall write to you with bated breath tomorrow whilst I slumber in peace._

_ -Vinny”_

__

My stomach turns with a gag trying to escape my throat. My hands shake viciously causing me to drop the book onto the firm concreate. Wait so that means the writings in… no no someone’s just playing a sick tick on me. Yeah… yeah thats all there is to it. But there’s those hooks in the corner- its just for meat, **it’s just for meat. **I shakily pick up the notebook again and with a deep breath, read the next page. 

_“It’s been a week with food and water scarce. The kind female offered me her meal but I refused. We both need our energy if we wish to escape this place. Plus she’s older so I still need her. The old man let us free to roam the basement this moring. He has yet to re-chain us, perhaps he trusts us to not run off. Or he’s tormenting us with the prospect of freedom which is far beyond our reach. Ether way I hope we can escape soon. I’ve run out of blood so I’ll write you when my supply re-fills._

_ -Vinny”_

__ The room spins, my legs become noodles as I drop to my knees The grip on the notebook tightens almost crumpling it. My sister, Alison was kidnapped back when I was a youngen, is this what she went through? I was never able to ask since her escape from chains was a death in them. Watery tears grace the bags under my eyes despite my desperate attempt to keep them in. I wait for my blurry vision to leave before I pick up the notebook again and read.

_“I’ve fallen ill. A simple death sentence in a place like this. The females been forcing me to drink her water despite my desperate attempt to convince her against it. There’s only one thing to do. Kill the weak link. Me. The chains will work fine as suffocation. Weep not for me, I accepted my fate the moment I was tossed into this hellhole of a basement. Goodbye dear reader, and goodbye world. _

_ -Vinny”_ _ _The tears in my eyes thickly drenche my face. How could someone ever do this to a child, such an innocent one no less. I close my eyes as an involuntary whimper purses my lips. I can’t stop now, if there’s more pages I have to read. Not for me, for Alison. To find out what she went through., With a heavy heart I flip the page.

_“The dead body has been stinking up the room for a couple days now. The old hag hasn’t moved it and I don’t he ever will. Vinny used to love writing in this thing. I never quite understood why, it’s just blood on paper. I guess it’s nice to get my thoughts out. I don’t know how I’ll do this without Vinny, he was my rock. But he desserves a funeral, So Ill give him the best one I can. I covered him with a towel and drew up some flowers on the floor. Now all thats left is a eulogy. Malfred Vinny, Son of Martha and Stewart Vinny was a good kid. He always put other first even if it meant sacrificing himself. If only his parents could see him one last time I know they’d be proud. He gave me more time, and with that I’ll continue to fight till I draw my last breathe. Goodbye reader, I’m sorry but this is the end._ 

_-Alison Wright”_