The Family (VOL. 1)

Chapter 6

Bubba pulled me down a rickety staircase, gripping my wrist tightly, into some sort of basement. The room was dimly lit, a flickering lamp without a shade being the only source of light. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. A long metal table sat in the middle of the room reminding me of a surgical table you'd see in hospitals.

He wrapped his arms around my hips and hoisting me up upon it before scurrying over to a wooden vanity in the corner, pulling open its drawers and messily rummaging through the contents.

Beside the vanity sat a makeshift bed on the floor which was more like a heap of blankets and pillows than anything. The other side of the room was lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of glass jars and canisters containing God knows what and a metal door propped slightly open.

He walked back to me, a pile of old rags and gauze in his arms and dropped them in a heap on the table beside me. I raised my injured hand up and turned my face away, squeezing my eyes closed. I had a very low pain tolerance and a feeling that it was going to hurt.

Taking my tiny hand into his much larger one, he pressed the rag into the cut, blotting at the blood that was flowing out making me wince at the stinging sensation.

"Is this your room? " I asked, attempting to distract myself from the pain.

He paused for a second and bobbed his head before continuing his work.

 I looked around at the bone mobiles hanging from the ceiling and the various animal skins that lined the concrete walls. "It's nice. " I lied through my teeth "Very...cozy"

A big grin spread across his face stretching his lips open, revealing chipped and jagged yellow teeth. He took a step back and pointed to my hand as if he was waiting for me to inspect his handiwork.

I looked my hand over, which he had carefully and meticulously bandaged in thin white scraps of linen, then placing my fingers against my lips, I extended my hand towards him. Thank you!" I signed, "That feels much better."

He clapped his hands happily and rolled back and forth on his heels. Taking a step closer, he leaned in, his face mere inches from my own. Grabbing my wrist, he slammed my hand against his mask. My body shuddered at the odd leathery texture yet my fingers continued to explore every line and wrinkle almost entranced with the strange mask. A low moan escaped his lips and his dark eyes closed as his shoulders sunk into a relaxed state.

"Did you make this mask? " I asked running my hands across the stitches along the hairline and down the side of his face

He gave a short grunt which I assumed means yes.

"It must have taken you a long time. You're incredibly talented,"

His arms slowly slinked around my waist, sliding me closer to the edge of the table, and he lowered his head down to rest on my bosom. That's when the smell hit me. The sickly sweet smell of death and decay. It seemed to radiate off him. Off his mask. I took a ragged breath through my mouth trying my hardest to avoid gagging.

The basement door creaked open like nails on a chalkboard and the sound of footsteps descending the stairs drew my eyes to the foot of the staircase to where the mother appeared. Her thin lips curved into a smile upon seeing us. Bubba remained hugging me, unaware of his mother's presence in the room. It took her clearing her throat for him to finally release me, jumping at the sight of the lady like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Bubba, it's time for supper," she said crossing her arms over her chest and raising a single eyebrow.

He babbled something like an excuse and shook his head from side to side stepping in front of me, blocking my view. I slid off the table and stood partially behind him peeping out past his shoulder.