The Cellar

We kept the cellar door locked. Nobody ever went down there. Not my mom, not my dad, no one. Not even my older brothers, Ben and Dylan. But we never really thought too much of it, all we knew is that we were not allowed down there. My parents were hiding something about the cellar, Ben, Dylan and I all knew. I have wondered sometimes what was down there. But for all I knew, it was just an empty cellar that no one spoke of.

One day, I came home from school to find that Dylan wasn't home. It was never something rare that he left me home alone, he was a senior in high school who had a lot of friends. Ben was at a student council meeting, since he was the student body president of our high school. My parents were at work, like every other school day, so I sat home and started on my homework.
After finishing my algebra, I texted Dylan to see when he would be home. He was ALWAYS home by this time, because our parents got home at 5:30 and he knew that if he went out without telling Mom and Dad he would be in big trouble. He didn't reply to my text. No matter where he was he ALWAYS replied.
Ben got home at 5:15. "Where's Dylan?" he asked me, shoving chips in his mouth.
"Not sure, but he has 15 minutes to get home or else he's grounded. I texted him before but he didn't reply."
"That's weird. Lets go steal his stuff" Ben replied, waving me over to where he was standing my the stairs. I got up and walked to Dylan's room. Dylan's room was a mess, like always, but I texted him telling him we were stealing his stuff and he should come home if he doesn't want to be grounded. And the weirdest thing happened. His phone rang on his bed. Something was wrong. Not ONCE have I seen my brother without his cell phone on him.
Bens jaw dropped. "Sarah! Dylan's dead!" He screamed sarcastically. I laughed.
Seriously though, where was he?

My parents came home and asked the same question Ben and I had been wondering- Where's Dylan?

Dylan never came home. He remained missing. My parents called the police and the town did a search for him, but he was never found. We spent countless hours calling his friends houses to see where they last saw him, and driving around to where he usually hung out to find him. The oddest part, was that I overheard my parents talking in the kitchen. Both of them were crying. "My poor baby, I can't imagine what could be happening to him as we speak!" My mom sobbed. "Do..... do you think we should," my dad said, "check the cellar?" My mom sat down. "No. No. No. No. No.", She said really fast. "We can't, we just can't. I couldn't even bring myself to open the lock when the police asked if they could check the cellar. Thats why I told them we checked there already."

I became really dizzy. My older brother, my caring, fun, older brother was missing and he could have possibly been in the cellar but my parents are too much of chickens to check? He's been gone for 4 days! If it could save his life, they couldn't check our very own cellar?

My parents became even more depressed then they had been when he was first gone. Our family, seemed kind of...dead. Like everyone didn't talk really and all of us were depressed and tired. A couple people came over to try to help us feel a little better. I slept most of everyday. My parents didn't seem to care if I missed school. I felt slow, like a zombie. But I had this weird sense that it wasn't only because of Dylan, it was something else. Like we were possessed. Like one, big depressing black and white movie.

A couple days later, I decided to go to school, and Ben agreed. My parents decided to try and go back to work. School went by slow, but I was feeling a little better. A little color had come back into my world when I saw my friends.
After school, I decided to go by my friend Lindsey's house. We baked cupcakes and watched a movie. She was so supportive and I really appreciated her trying to help me get better.

But I had to say, I loved my brother so much. He was a great kid. Even though he teased me sometimes, he always put a smile on my face with his corny jokes. I still cry sometimes when I think about him. I had a huge chunk of my heart ripped out.

I came home from Lindsey's at 5. My parents were still at work. I was proud of them for making it through the day with their son being missing.
"BEN!! I'M HOME!" I yelled. "BEN!"

"BEN THIS ISN'T FUNNY" I screamed. I ran upstairs to his room, where he always does homework after school. He wasn't there. His phone was on his desk.

"BEN, IS THIS SOME KIND OF SICK JOKE?" Ben? No. NO! There was no way in hell that I would let both of my siblings go missing.
I checked the rest of the house, but yet no Ben.

"You know what?", I thought to myself.
I was so angry that I ran to the cellar door outside and tried opening it. No matter how much I tried I couldn't get the combination right. I got so frustrated and enraged that I even took a hammer and started hitting the lock but it wouldn't break.

I dropped to my knees and started crying. "No!" I sobbed, with my head in my hands. My brothers. The boys who loved me even though I was their annoying little sister. My other half, Ben. Ben was the one family member I felt comfortable just sitting down and talking with him about boys and stress and mean girls and my worries. And he would listen. He would make me feel better when the cute boy I liked started dating another girl. Another chunk of my heart was ripped out. I died inside.

I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was going to pass out. The grayness returned. It wasn't making a metaphor now. I couldn't see ANY color. Everything was gray. I stumbled as my view grew blurry. Falling to the floor, I closed my eyes wishing this was just a dream. About to hit the ground, a beautiful smell appeared. Slowly regaining vision and color, I followed the scent.

I couldn't stop walking. The scent was too amazing. The aroma was familiar, it reminded me of my childhood. I couldn't tell what the scent was, but it was, but it was absolutely gratifying. It led me to the cellar door. I couldn't stop myself. I was possessed or something. The smell grew more and more. I couldn't resist. I couldn't stop myself when my fingers turned the lock at the right numbers and unlocked the cellar door. I didn't know the combination, but I looked at the dial while I was being controlled to unlock it. 1-11-11. January 11th 2011. The date my uncle was murdered. It took me a second to realize I was being controlled by something. I couldn't stop though. I was like a remote-controlled Sarah and a demon had the remote.

With all my might, I held on to the railing. But the force was too strong. I was dragged down the hard, wood stairs. Panic flushed over me. I screamed at the top of my lungs. "HELP HELP MOM DAD HELP!!!!!!!" I screamed and cried and pounded my fists on the stairs. I stood up, unwillingly. I looked around but I couldn't move anything but my head. The cellar was dim and foggy and smelled like wet mold, nothing like the delicious smell outside.

What ever was controlling me brought me to the back of the cellar. I was beyond horrified and I knew I was going to die. The back of the cellar was empty except for a suitcase. The suitcase slowly opened. It was filled with blood. All my life, I have hated blood. Even the word "blood" gave me the chills.

I started hyperventilating when I started stepping into the bloody suitcase. It was bottomless. I put the other foot in and started to sink. "Help!" I screamed. I yelled and fought but i couldn't get out. I started praying.
"God, if your there please help me please help me" I was so scared I almost had an anxiety attack. My head almost under the blood, I said my last goodbyes.
I told God that I loved him and thanked him for my amazing family and friends.