“I’m sorry,” Hazel apologized out of the blue.
We’d been trapped down here for what I think have been hours for me; for Hazel, days. The basement brought with it an ominous chill that kept our arms wrapped around ourselves. I’d been locked behind the same iron bars as Hazel, both sitting on the old mattress that stunk of mold and vomit. Chains were attached to our ankles and when I shook them again the cement, I realized it made a clunk noise I heard upstairs. Who else has he had down here?
Hazel shivered beside me, groaning in pain as she rocked back and forth. Despite how cold we were, beads of sweat trickled down her forehead and cheeks.
“For what?” I asked with a mocking laugh. “I should be the one apologizing. He’s my step-father.”
She shook her head, dirty curls spilling down h
