Silence. 

The beauty of silence. 

What exactly is so beautiful about silence?

Why did Leroy say those words back then and why did they never let me go? They grabbed me and glued on me - like strong superglue! I sigh and shake my head. Now I'm already getting angry at simple words. Words without any meaning. 

Lie. 

These words have a meaning. And I think that I am slowly beginning to understand what Leroy meant with those words, but deep down I know that I don't want to believe it. It's so... evil and somehow also so barbaric that it simply can't be and yet it fits him so well that this must be the truth. You have to be quiet, I know that now. 

Because the quieter you are, the more you can hear. 

Had Leroy been finding the deadly silence so beautiful?

That deadly silence that reigned at the Brooklyn Bridge back then, after he murdered that man, that all you could hear was the fear of death, the heart beating far too fast and the inner prayers of the people?

Because then I begin to understand. 

It doesn't seem quiet in this cellar right now, although no one is talking and I can't perceive any movement. But if you listen carefully, you understand that the silence is loud. My heart, which is beating far too fast, my fear, which silences all reason in my head, and the cold sweat of fear that rolls down my back - they are all loud. I listen to nothing else except this.

Nervous, I nibble on my lower lip until I taste blood and let my fingers crack. Not for a second have I stopped counting since I've been sitting here in the basement, but now that I know I've been in the basement for six hours, eight minutes, and twenty-four seconds, I've stopped counting. It only gave me an incredible headache and I am just exhausted. It must also be close to midnight already. 

Whimpering, I close my eyes. Where are these voices coming from? Who is speaking? And why are the words they say so cruel and demonic? But the more important question is, why do these voices sound so childlike? Are they children or am I just going insane? Am I losing my mind?

I don't hear anything from the girl called Stacy anymore, but the crying has come to an end after being locked up here. Instead, they have now started giggling and constantly mentioning death. Is this perhaps just a stupid joke? 

"What is happening?", I whimper, squinting my eyes. I got myself into this!

I should have confronted Yang about all this and only then seen what she had to say. Now I'm in a mess and I don't know if they'll find me here in time. 

"Are you scared?" The same childish voice I heard three minutes ago murmurs at me again, but this time it sounds damn close. Jerking, I turn around, but no one is here. 

This time, I scream. I can't stand this fear anymore and I'm sure they're already looking for me, so I scream louder than I ever have before. And I really am heard, because barely two minutes later I hear several firm footsteps.

Leroy's men open the door with a kick, holding their weapons in their hands, but when they recognize me they immediately lower their revolvers with widened eyes. One, however, does not.

My heart skips a beat as I realize that he is aiming at something behind me, but before I can burst with fear, I am grabbed forcefully by the arm and pulled away.

A glance over my shoulder is enough and I almost lose consciousness as I recognize the grinning girl in the bloody flowered dress and the floor that has been opened like a door.

☼ ❅

When I was about six years old, I once accidentally hurt a cat. It was our neighbor's cat, which, oddly enough, often sat and slept outside our front door.

Filled with euphoria, I opened the door, ran out, and hurt her tail. She screamed loud enough that even today it still echoes in my ears when I think about it. Her scream had horrified me and I immediately fell on my knees and cried.

Mom came out a few seconds later, helped me to fix her up, and told me that it was an accident and that the cat would surely forgive me. I blamed myself for days, forced Mom to apologize to the neighbor on my behalf and buy his cat the best treats so that she would realize that I was really sorry until my neighbor assured me that his cat had forgiven me. I was even allowed to cuddle her afterward! It was wonderful. 

That was the only horrible act in my life. Neither before nor since then have I ever hurt anyone again and yet I am being punished as if I had sinned every day. 

"Katrina!", I hear him yell, but I have no intention of leaving the huge wardrobe.

Shakily, I close my eyes. I'm not used to hearing him call me by my name and now he's yelling it so loudly that the hair on the back of my neck stands up in shock. 

"It can't be," I whisper. Tears of fear and panic roll down my cheek. 

"Pablo, toma tu posición. Vamos! Lo juro, si no la veo en diez minutos, los mataré a todos!", I hear him yelling at someone. Whimpering, I close my eyes, lean my head against the cupboard and pray that Leroy doesn't find me. 

I shouldn't have gone into the basement.

Whimpering, I close my eyes, lean my head against the cupboard door and pray that Leroy doesn't find me. I still remember how he reacted when I first entered the basement. He threatened to kill me. Again, I pull on my hair.

The girl - Stacy! I saw her, all covered in blood and with that crazy grin on her face! How could those men want to shoot her?

So she's being held there after all. And the other children? Where have they been? 

"God, what is happening?" I breathe desperately, but immediately regret it as firm footsteps approach me. I open my eyes in panic as the wardrobe door opens and I look into the poison-green eyes of Leroy. Unthinkingly, I shriek fearfully and kick him. 

"Get out of here! Oh God, just leave me alone, you monster," I scream, raising my hands defensively as if I could protect myself a little that way, but he doesn't attack me at all, he doesn't even scowl at me, nor does he scream.

Instead, he kneels down and merely holds my hands so that I can't hit him or push him away. 

"Go away, please," I whimper in a low whisper and close my eyes, sobbing. 

"What happened?" He asks me unusually carefully. Indignant, I lift my eyes and look at him with narrowed eyes, noticing the furrow between his eyebrows that makes a confused expression on his face. "Tell me." 

As much as he seems to try to sound sweet and gentle - it doesn't work. His tone is too commanding for that. He's just trying to pull the wool over my eyes! Why doesn't he scream? Why doesn't he hurt me? Why does he act so tender now? 

What game are you playing, Leroy? 

"I'm scared," I confess. He was so angry when I went to the cellar that time, he threatened to kill me. I think that if I confess now that I was there, he'll reach for the gun without hesitation and kill me. 

"I won't hurt you, I promise," he assures me, without once averting his eyes. For a moment, the hardness in his eyes seems to fade a little bit. They don't seem as dull now as they usually do. I take a deep breath. Whatever. He'll find out sooner or later anyway. 

"I went into the basement," I whisper. When his gaze seems to darken, I swallow hard and crawl deeper into the closet, but he holds me by the wrist. 

"I said I wouldn't hurt you," he presses out, then asks me why I went into the basement. 

"You're holding children down there! I knew it then because I heard childish voices then too. Your reaction that day now explains that that's why you were angry." My voice sounds quite husky and therefore more fearful, which I don't like, but I can't do anything about it either. 

"Children? Wait a minute," he replies perplexed, looking at me totally uncomprehending. "Which children's voices?" Leroy looks suspiciously from one eye to the other, as if he thinks that I am losing my mind. My features slip for a moment. 

"Don't pretend that you don't know what I'm talking about," I hiss angrily. He's just playing a game with me! "Why don't you get angry all of a sudden, huh? Don't you want to kill me? I just broke one of your rules!"

"It's true that I got very angry last time because you have no business in the basement. That's where I store my drugs, my weapons, and my ammunition. You could accidentally press a button where the bombs are stored and kill us all. There was one other reason why I got angry then, and that was because I had toyed with the idea of letting you go and didn't want you to see anything more, things you might report to the police. But now it doesn't matter what you see, because you're staying with me. But you're still not allowed to touch anything down there, precisely because of the reasons I mentioned," he reveals. "But children? No, I don't hold children down there, because I don't have time for that." 

"But there was this girl. Stacy, she was...-" I begin, but suddenly the furrow between his brows disappears and he interrupts me. 

"Stacy? Stacy was in the basement?" His eyebrows draw together in annoyance but before I can say anything he continues. "Stacy is a friend's daughter. Yang was babysitting her over the weekend. She's here a lot because she's also a friend of Danny and she allows herself the naughtiest of jokes, but she's certainly not allowed to carry them out in the basement!" 

So I was actually just being misled by a little girl? Were children just playing a joke with me?

The room suddenly seems to spin, so I close my eyes for a moment. Children! It wasn't just one child, it was several children, but it doesn't even occur to him to tell me that there are more of Danny's friends here. 

Because there aren't! 

"Why were you yelling earlier?", I enquire weakly, opening my eyes suspiciously. Leroy is very controlled now, but earlier he sounded almost panicked. 

"I thought you ran away," he answers after a moment's hesitation. The scale that stood for everything he tells me being lies and lies is now at ninety.

I can't run away from here! Even if there was no one standing in front, I would never have been able to cross the high walls and I don't know how to open the gates. He sighs softly, then grinds his jaw before looking at me again. 

"I want to see her," I demand, to which his eyes darken again. 

"You should go to bed now. It's very late," he replies instead. 

"I want to see her!", I repeat and this time I already sound more biting. 

"Stacy is being driven to her parents right now," he presses out. You can tell he's struggling to keep his voice down.

"No, bring her back immediately!", I insist. The room stops spinning now and the fog that had settled in my head for a moment also disappears. I can see clearly again. I take my hand from him and rise, moving away from the cupboard.

Swallowing, I take a few steps back, distance myself from him, and cross my arms defensively in front of my chest. Leroy doesn't move, he is still crouching in front of the cupboard where I had hidden before. I shudder as I realise how close he was to me.

"Katrina," he hisses softly, tensing before slowly standing up. 

"You seriously think I believe you? You're holding children down there! Why else did your men target her and why was she wearing a bloody dress? And don't tell me she was wearing it to play! You're such a...", I yell, but he interrupts me by grabbing my arm and growling. 

"Watch your tongue, chica," he hisses. His cool breath hits my face and the smell of eucalyptus hits my nose. "I explained to you what the situation was, whether you believe me or not, I don't care, understand? I told you not to enter the basement and you did it anyway! But instead of punishing you appropriately for it, I will overlook it. The fact that you are gradually losing your mind is not my fault!" 

"Now go to bed," he hisses in my ear before letting go of me and dragging me behind him. He drags me into the bedroom and throws me on the bed while I can only stare silently ahead.

Tears sting my eyes, but I try hard not to let one out. He pulls the sandals off my feet and disappears briefly into the bathroom. Hissing, I slowly straighten up. Everything hurts. Every muscle feels trampled. I didn't just imagine that damn child, she was there! And his reaction makes me realize that it has been. 

He comes back into the bedroom, holding a bowl full of water in his hands, a rag, disinfectant and bandages, and pain gel. I shudder and retreat, but he grabs me by the ankle and pulls me back towards him, whereupon I whimper loudly in pain, which doesn't bother him a bit.

Then he cleans up my wounds. First my elbow, then my hand and wrist. Finished with that, he pushes me into bed and even covers me up while I have already taken my eyes off him.

God, make him go away already. 

As soon as he's gone, a tear rolls down my cheek. 

What did I see and what didn't I see?

☼ ❅