Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; memories will drive me mad. — David W.

        The slice of meat was slapped down onto the bread carelessly, met with another bread piece on top. His hands reached into a drawer next to kitchen sink and rummaged through the disorganized contents until he found a filled syringe. Plate in one hand, syringe in the other, the drawer was closed with the swing of his slender hips.

        It was the same routine every morning. Every afternoon. Every night. David turned for the hall, careful to avoid the windows that he passed. His shoes on the wooden floor left soft "thuds" sounding his approach for the basement door.

        He set the syringe down on the plates edge, fitted against the sandwiches side while he dug his right hand down into his pants front pocket. His key set was somewhere, David was never careless. He had too precious of cargo locked away to be lazy of its security. Metal met his fingertips as the keys were flushed with warmth from the heat of his body.

        David tugged them out maneuvering his wrists in odd ways, trying to take hold of the needed key. There, finally he jammed the silver keys face into the locks opening, giving it a sharp twist. The door hinges creaked as it was guided open by David's elbow. He was anxious yet calm, two emotions that never seemed fitted for one another.

        Down the metal stairs he went. One by one, dust shook off each, fine rain of particles to land upon unpacked boxes below. The basement was well lit with multiple lights set into the ceiling. A red patterned carpet looked oddly placed in front of the man size freezer that held meat.

        He knelt down, setting the plate on the cement floor while his fingertips pried up the carpet, folding it off the trap door. A padlock was slipped through it, key already set in. David reached forward undoing the lock sliding its hooked arm off discarding it as the door was his main focus. He stood bending down to use his strength to pull open the door, letting it fall to the ground in a loud clatter.

        It was dark. With arms on either side of the opening he carefully lowered his feet into the darkness until he felt the ladder like stairs under his boots. David reached one hand down into the darkness until it touched the slim handhold while his other pulled the plate nearer. He moved down lower and lower his body becoming engulfed until the basement laid empty.

        His body dropped down to the level below the basement. Blindly he felt along the padded wall for the light switch. The plastic flip-switch was flipped upright, bringing to life the white washed hallway. This level resembled a mental institution and had every right to. The walls were sound proof for safe measure, layered with thick padding. As David moved further down the hall the lights flickered bringing him in and out of darkness.

        A lone door stood tall ahead. His footsteps echoed as well as his breathing. Another key set hung on a single hook level with David's hazel-green eyes. He reached over to the keys pulling them down easily finding the right one before sheathing it into the lock. From here he moved cautiously. The door was only opened enough for him to slip into the always lit room. Just when David was fully into the room a foot lashed out kicking him from behind the knee knocking his balance unsteady.

        A wailing cry startled the silence as the occupant threw herself onto David's back clasping arms around his neck. David choked out, his windpipe crushing under the pressure. He rammed her and his back into the door closing it with the force of their bodies. Her failing feet sent a lamp tumbling to the floor along with the sandwich and syringe when David came away from the door. His eyes saw the syringe on the floor, if she used it on him he knew all would be over. A muffled curse broke out of him as the girl bite into the back of his neck. Her teeth pinched into the skin, sinking down past the surface. Swiftly David pushed himself back choking on the last of his oxygen, falling back into the door. He pinned her under his weight, and brought an elbow blow down into her exposed ribs.

        The girl released her hold screaming in frustration, weakly holding herself up with the walls assistance once releasing him. David scooped up the syringe, his free hand rubbing the now bloodied bite mark on the back of his neck. His mind was blank as he turned to face the small framed girl. The white nightgown was stained from the sandwiches fallen contents, her messy hair was knotted into a ponytail keeping it away from the ghost like complexion. Blood from himself perched on her lower lip, oozing out in her saliva.

        Disgust brimmed with shame on his young face. How could she do this to me? He frowned pulling the cap off the needle. Accidentally she had missed her dose last night, but these outbursts seemed to be happening more and more recently. With every bruise or mark she left on David it was another needed explanation for those whom he was close with.

        "Caitlin," he spot softly like she was a frighten animal stepping closer.

        Caitlin, the girl, pressed herself back closer into the wall shaking her head a sob coming from her lips, foaming more of his blood down her chin. David ignored her indescribable words grabbing her forearm roughly, pulling her body flush against his. She started to hit him again with closed tiny fists, while he struggle to hold her arms still.

        "No. No. No-" Caitlin stopped herself short as David's firm grip came around her torso, throwing her body down onto the twin size bed.

        The springs whined in protest at the weight of the both of them. David pushed her knees aside straddling her stomach, the body of the syringe in between his teeth during the fight to pin her failing arms. Caitlin spit out foam she gathered blood up into his face.

        "Stop. Fighting." He growled his fist closing around one of her wrists pushing it into the old mattress.

        Caitlin did not hold back using her overgrown nails to her advantage raking them across the soft flesh of his untouched cheek. Red liquid splattered from the impact sounding a grunt of pain from David who bit down harder on the syringes body.

        Skin on skin sounded sharply; slap. Caitlin stilled at the sudden infliction of pain momentarily, just long enough for David to hitch her two wrists into the metal handcuffs above her head on the beds headboard.

        "There you go, baby." He breathed out raggedly after he pulled the syringe from his mouth. His own chest was rising and falling heavily while he reached over her to her bound wrists.

        A whimper came from Caitlin as she tried to twist and thrash her straddled torso. David only ignored her too angry to care about her pain popping the cap off the needles head. She had been given too many chances before, he jabbed the needle into the underside of her right forearm. His thumb pressed down feeding the liquid contents into her bloodstream only taking a matter of seconds to ease Caitlin into a floating world of unconsciousness....

        David sat back slowly moving off her torso. He lowered himself beside her legs draped over the edge as he stuffed the now empty syringe into his pocket, his breathing falling normal.

        "I don't see why you must always try to fight, Caitlin." David mumbled as his hands slid under her limp back fumbling with the zipper of the nightgown dragging it downward.

        With her drugged form he undid one wrist at a time to pull each arm through the short sleeved of the dress. After her arms were free he returned them to the awaiting restraints. David's hands rolled the material of the dress off her clothed chest down past her hips, before sliding it easily off her legs.

        He never understood why she disrespected him. He gave up school because of her, he could hardly go out in public without people gawking. The nightgown was gathered and the scattered pieces of the spilt sandwich were piled onto the plate. It took time to relock all the doors he had opened, double checking each before he went upstairs.

        His hands brushed out the wrinkles on the trap door, adjusting its edges so they were parallel to the freezer. Content he grabbed both nightgown and plate standing.

        It was not until he reached the kitchen when the claw marks on his cheek started to sting, they begged to be attended to. The sandwich was dumped into the trash, plate discarded into the sink before David even thought about his cheek.

        He carried the nightgown with him upstairs towards his bedroom. The walls were naked, no family photos lingered, and none actually existed. At least none of David did. Wall paper that peeled reached out like arms towards him, he ignored the hideous take on the house pressing his forearm to his door sending it hitting back against the wall.

        David tossed the nightgown to the foot of his unmade bed, unable to get into the bathroom quick enough. He gripped both sides of the white porcelain sink leaning closer to the mirror, he tilted his face into the light streaming through the slim window.

        A list of swears flew from his lips. Three large scratches were dug into his lower left clean shaven cheek, abruptly ending at the drop off of his jaw. Blood had dried up in the three trenches, an allusion causing the marks to appear deeper.

        "This'll scar-" he hissed through his clenched teeth lifting his left hand to trace nimbly along the trails. David lifted his eyes to meet his own in the reflection. Purple rings hung swallow under his eyes from long nights of no rest. His hair seemed to have grown long in neglect, longer than he would of liked. Mother always liked my hair long, he thought to himself as he turned from the mirror moving towards the closet.

        David reached up to the shelves, hand pushing aside what was there in search for an electric razor. His Fathers was here somewhere. He pulled down the black plastic body as soon as he saw it. David's thumb brushed over the on button, slowly applying pressure. The audible buzz sounded throughout the room.

        David looked towards the door of his bathroom almost expecting his mother to come charging in, though no noise came. It was silent and for a moment David had to remind himself that his mother was dead. She was not here, she was not coming back. He swallowed hard, this was his choice.

        The sink was in front of him, mirror judgmentally staring back. He carefully lifted the razor towards the hair that fell onto his forehead. The vibrating head was cold as it slid across his scalp with the push of his hand. Clumps of hair fell down onto the sink in front of him, being caught by the running water swept into the open drain. David lifted the razor back to the front starting a new path. In every new trail made he shed his old self. The proof was in the hair that started to scatter around his feet, he felt new. He had Caitlin and he would make her behave... as long as he had her he could be, David Warren.