As a child, I'd been told never to open the door under the stairs. I was forbidden to even think about it. At first, I'd been curious. I'd seen my father go in late at night and not return for several hours. I would lie on the floor and try to hear something, anything, but I never did. As I grew older, I figured it was just an office space. My father was a personal man, so why wouldn't he want a place where he could be alone? I grew up and moved out, at least until my father passed from a heart attack. My mother hadn't been around for years, and no one knew where she was or what she was up to. She'd just left. So, I inherited the house.
When I received the keys and a letter from the lawyer, I was on my way back to my childhood home. I spent days cleaning the house before I finally read the note from my father. It was only six words. In the Apple of My Eye. I was confused to say the least, thinking my father had gone crazy. At least until I found a book on his desk, titled Apple of My Eye. I opened the book, but at first saw nothing. Was my father telling me to read? As I was getting ready to close the book, I felt something bulky under the cover. I peeled it off, and a key was taped to the book. I felt my heart stop, because I knew what the long, odd key was. It was the same one he'd used nightly to enter the forbidden room, or whatever it was.
So, now I was standing in front of the door, debating opening it. It had been my father's private space, his one unbothered place. Did I really want to ruin that?
Curiosity got the best of me, and before I knew it, the door was open, I stared into blackness, the only thing visible was the first few stairs leading down into a basement. What was so special about the basement? I felt around for a light and found a switch. I flipped it, staring at the continuous stairs before making my way down. The basement was practically empty, minus a bed that looked used, and an old plate of food on the floor. "What the hell?" My mind didn't have time to wrap around what could have possibly been happening down here before something else caught my attention.
A growl erupted from some hidden spot in the room, a scream erupting from me before the sound of metal scraping the ground exposed something that I never would have thought my father was capable of.
A man came running at me full force until his chains had him stopped but inches from me. I was petrified. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. The man looked angry, hungry, and young... He couldn't be but a few years older than me. What was he doing in here? Why was he here? Another lower growl broke my current state and I screamed, running for the stairs. "No! Wait! Please." The low voice sounded in my head, so desperate and lost. I kept going, ready to close the door and never look back until he spoke again. "Help me..." He sounded so broken, so weak.
I stared at the door for what felt like forever until I let out a sigh. My heart was pounding in my chest, sweat perspiring on my palms, and I was turning around. "Who are you?" I called, not bothering to go any further.
"My name is Elric Archibald."
"Why are you here?"
He was silent for a moment, and I heard the chains slowly move around for a moment. "I was brought against my will."
"Why?"
"You... You don't know?"
"Know what?" What was he talking about? Why would my father want this man in the basement? My father had been a genetic specialist, so what did this man have that interested my father enough to keep him locked in my basement all these years?
"I thought you were one of them. Not one has been down here in days. I thought you were here to run more tests. Who are you?" One of them? How many people had my father had down here, and for what purpose?
"You didn't answer my question." I found myself walking back down the stairs, the man coming back into view. Now that I wasn't as scared, I could take in his appearance. Yes, he was close to my age, maybe just a few years older. He had black, thick, wavy hair that rested at the nape of his neck, hauntingly bright golden brown eyes, a firm mouth, a jaw that looked stubborn and perfectly chiseled onto his square face. He was tall, probably over six-foot, and his body was firm. He wore nothing but jeans, exposing his chest, and it was marvelous. Tanned skin stretched over many contours and dips of muscle. He looked like he'd come out of a wet dream.
"I'm... different." It was simple, but not enough.
"Different how?"
"I answered yours, now you answer mine." His eyes judged me, trying to figure me out. He wanted to know if I was the good guy or the bad guy.
"I'm Amelia Hastings."
I watched Elric's eyes widen then narrow. "You're of relation to him?" Another growl erupted from his chest, it was animalistic and frightening. I took a step back. "You're his kin. You're in on this, aren't you? You're tricking me. Tell me, do you enjoy this?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I swear it." his eyes were dark and accusing as he stared into mine. "Tell me how you're different."
"Why, so you can run back to your daddy and tell him what the monster told you?"
"My father's dead." Elric blinked blankly at me. "And so is whatever he did to you."
"What he did to me will never die. Your father is more cruel than anything else on this planet. The things he did to me were unethical and torturous. He didn't even care."
"No, my father wasn't like that."
Elric laughed humorlessly then shook his arms, the chains vibrating against the floor. "Not like what? He wouldn't chain someone into his basement? He wouldn't stick them with needles, starve them, or inject them with things meant to kill a normal human? Why don't you look for yourself." His head turned, and I followed his gaze. I saw a smaller room in the corner I hadn't noticed before. An old desk sat there with a single folder on it. I looked back at Elric, his gaze hard and prodding. He wanted me to look. So, I did. And what I found was terrifying. I knew my father had been a distant, different man, but I hadn't expected something like this out of him.
Subject appears to be part beast, part man. Transforms when agitated.
