🤍Breath🤍

25 1 10
                                    

Heavy footsteps came into the house. They stomped by the door to get dirt and mud off. Sub stayed curled up in the closet. He stared at the small slit where the door didn't touch the ground to see the shadow move around.

The footsteps got closer. Sub began to shake and pressed into the corner like he was trying to phase through it.

The shadow went away to the left and the footsteps grew loud and creaky as they went up the staircase that the closet was built into.

Sub waited. He didn't move or try to look out. He waited in the closet until he felt it was a hundred percent safe.

Eventually, he slowly opened the closet door and peered out into the house. It was musty and smelled of alcohol, cigars, and mold. The front door was covered in locks. Some of which weren't put back.

Sub quickly went over and undid some of the locks, making sure to make as little noise as possible. He quickly glanced back before throwing the door open and bolting towards the forest.

His bare feet scratched on the twigs and fallen branches. But he kept running. It didn't matter how many scratches or cuts he got. He just ran.

A gunshot rang out. Sub quickly threw his arms over his head and crouched. He looked behind him and ran to a tree.

He climbed up and tried to hide in the thick leaves. The footsteps crunched on the ground and got closer.

A man holding a shotgun and heavy mud covered boots walked through the forest. He looked around and gripped the gun in his hands.

He aimed it upwards and fired a shot. The sound rippled through the forest. Sub clutched onto the tree and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not make a sound.

The man looked around again. He lifted the shotgun and aimed it at the tree. He pulled the trigger.

A bullet grazed Sub's ankle, leaving a horizontal cut across it. He hissed in pain and grabbed the wound with his free hand. The man fired another bullet at the tree, hitting its trunk by where Sub held.

"Get the fuck down here!" The man yelled. "I know you're up there!" Sub stayed quiet, hoping he'd give up and leave. But he didn't.

He aimed the gun again, this time at Sub's head. Sub quickly realized and climbed down, trying his best to not strain his ankle. The man smiled and lowered the gun as Sub hoped down onto the ground with his hands in the air. He harshly grabbed Sub's arm and began to pull him towards the house again.

He threw Sub inside and he crumpled to the ground. The man clutched his gun again and stuck it in the back of Sub's head. He froze on the ground and tried not to move to anger him.

"You're lucky I didn't put a bullet through your head," The man spat. He sighed and put all the locks on the door, some requiring a key.

He yanked Sub up and dragged him upstairs. He threw him into one of the rooms that locked from the outside.

Sub stayed on the floor. He stared at the dingy ceiling that was lit by one dim light in the room.

Other than a mattress, there wasn't any furniture. Cardboard boxes were scattered around. Some filled with clothes. Some with stashed medical supplies.

Sub went over to one of the boxes and took out rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and bandages.

First, he put some of the alcohol on the cotton balls. Then he used it to clean up his wound.

It burned as it touched his skin. Sub gripped his clothes and bit his lip till it bled to deal with the stinging.

He took the bandages and wrapped them around his ankle. They soaked up any blood that was now seeping out.

          

He fell back on the mattress and curled up, hugging his knees. He felt a shiver down his spine and tried to fall asleep. 

-

The next day, Sub leaned against the door, banging on it and begging to be let out to eat. His father was heard downstairs, banging pots around and glass beer bottles falling on the ground.

Sub stood up, almost falling when putting pressure on his ankle. He looked through the small space where the door didn't touch the wall. He couldn't see much other than the hall.

He went back to banging and yelling. He hoped his father would give in to giving him food so he'd be quiet.

The heavy footsteps came up the stairs. They stopped in front of the door. Sub stepped back as he could hear his father messing with the lock.

He threw the door open and stared at Sub. He stepped into the room and grabbed Sub's arm.

"Do you ever shut up?" The man spat.

"I-I need food," Sub whispered. His father stayed quiet and threw him back on the ground. He left and came back with a plate of cold leftovers. Mashed potatoes, meat, and asparagus.

Sub quickly pulled it closer and started eating, stuffing the food into his mouth. His father looked on in disgust.

It ate like he hadn't eaten in days.

Which was true.

The man closed the door, not locking it. Sub continued, picking the chunk of meat up and ripping bits and pieces away with his teeth.

The plate was left spotless. Sub licked the small pieces that got stuck on his fingers. He tried to savor every last piece. He didn't know when he'd be able to eat as much food again.

He picked up the plate and pushed the door open. He stepped out into the hall. His footsteps were so light that the wood didn't creak.

He went down the stairs, hiding behind the walls. He noticed his father sitting in a retractable chair, facing the window while listening to the radio. Sub went past him to the kitchen. He placed the plate in the sink.

He heard the chair squeak as his father got up. Sub quickly spun around. His father came over, wobbling.

"Clean this up," He pointed to the sink and the counters, covered in empty beer bottles and dirty plates. Sub nodded and his father went back to the chair.

He turned the radio up. It talked about the weather and other news. The voices were hard to hear over static.

Sub began collecting the empty bottles. He put them in the trash can, having to put some on the ground so they didn't fall out of the overflowing can.

He then began to wash the dishes. Covering them in soap, rinsing them off with water, then drying them off with a towel before putting them back.

His father groaned a few minutes later. He sat up and looked at Sub. "You. Get me another beer, will ya?" He grumbled. Sub put the last plate away and went over to the fridge. He pulled it open.

He grabbed one of the many beer bottles and went to close the door but stopped. He stared at the food inside.

Sub quickly grabbed an apple and shoved it into the pocket of his overalls. He went over to his dad and gave him the beer before going back upstairs.

As soon as he closed the door, he fell to the ground and began eating the apple. He ate the whole thing in just a few minutes, even eating all the way down to the seeds and stem.

He put what was left in a box in the corner that had other trash and bloody bandages in it. He sat on the mattress.

Sub felt a shiver again, like someone was watching him. He looked around but the room was empty. He hugged his knees and looked at his ankle. The bandages were red and starting to fall off.

Before Sub could get up to get new bandages, the door opened. His dad came in. He looked angry.

"Did you eat my food?" He snapped. Sub curled up into the corner, staring up at him. 

"N-No," Sub replied. His father scoffed and began searching through the boxes. He threw clothes and other things around the room before getting to the box in the corner.

He saw the apple core and turned back to Sub."You did!" He grabbed Sub's collar and pulled him up.

"What else did you steal?" He hissed. Sub shook his head and held onto his father's hands, trying to get away.

"I didn't take anything! I swear!" He cried.

But there was no point in trying to convince him.

"Liar." He mumbled before dragging Sub out of the room and into another bedroom. It was dark, the blinds closed. He threw Sub onto the ground and locked the door. He went over to the deks and shuffled through it aggressively.

He stopped and took out a sewing needle that still had a thread. He twirled it between his fingers and looked back at Sub.

"Your mother loved to sew," He said in a happy erie tone. His smile faded and his eyebrows furrowed. "Until you killed her." He got closer to Sub and grabbed his chin.

"I'd still have my wife if it wasn't for you," He grinded his teeth and shoved Sub's head back, pushing him into the wall.

He grabbed the strap of Sub's overall's, ripping it. He pulled at the striped shirt Sub wore under it, pulling it down below his collar bone. "I told her we shouldn't have had kids but she insisted we did."

"And looked where that got her," He gripped the needle. "You don't deserve to breathe or eat. You took her from me. You took her breath. So I'll take it away from you."

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