I never told anyone who lives in the basement. My parents never suspected a thing.
How could they? I’d done everything in my, albeit, limited power to make sure they didn’t know that this silver haired boy was living beneath them. He was only there for me--he would whisper into my ear, in short icy breaths that he loved me. He lived here, because I did as well and I was his entire world. So when I left for the city intent on starting over at a new school, imagine my shock to learn that he had not understood our goodbye.
Imagine my shock to know that in his fury he had murdered my parents. When the police arrived, he was gone. Gone, and not quite.