Its Not Me Its My Basement Novels & Stories

“Disobeying me again? I think the basement may be calling…” A cold chill flooded over me. Any mention of that place filled my body with dread. The basement was my own hell. A prison within my own home. “Dad, please…” I begged. "I am just trying to do the right thing by you and the pack." I added, pleading.

Ian kisses me like a man thats starved and I bite down on his lips, hard. He groans and grinds against me, already hard. I hate him. I hate myself more because I’m wet the second his tongue touches mine. “Not here,” I hiss but my hands are already clawing at his belt. “Basement,” he says. I should say no. I should march upstairs, pack my bag, and drive back to the city right now. Instead I let him tug me through the pantry, down the narrow stairs that smell old Christmas decorations. The basement is half finished when we got there, a sagging couch, Dad’s ancient weight bench, boxes of my childhood stuffed animals staring at us with plastic eyes.

Uncle snarls to someone I don’t see, and panic spreads. There’s no meeting room in our basement. No colorful rugs or chairs or even a window. The only thing in our basement are rats, cold, and mold. It’s a grave. It’s also the place I spent more time as a rebellious teenager than I spent anywhere else. So, it comes as no surprise that the thought of being flung back in there is enough to leave me bathed in a cold sweat. I can’t go back there.

Xavier, whose duty is now to bring me meals, leaves almost as soon as he arrives. I head back to the basement where I now live. It’s a small space—average to some people, but not to me. The ceiling is low, and the walls are damp with mildew, causing my skin to itch. But I convince myself this is temporary; after all, I’m not going to spend the rest of my life in hiding.

“I didn’t see anyone in the basement besides him and Kasia. - Ancient the same cannot be. Then you would be an ordinary lugar. A bad thought crept into my head, but I quickly drove it away. I do not believe! It's just not possible, there's probably another explanation.

He opens it and looks over at me. “What are you doing standing by the door? Come inside.” He says almost impatiently. I walk in. “Are you trying to kidnap me or lock me away or something?” I half joke, my steps hesitant even as I make it to the door. He doesn’t give me a response. The door he opens leads to a small, empty room with a trap door on the floor. “What is this place?” “The basement.” I blink “The what?... We have a basement in this house?” He opens the trap door to reveal a set of stairs leading downward.

If love was painful then u don’t want to experience it and ever hurt a woman the way my mother was hurt. I left her then because other matters needed my attention. Dante’s voice outside the door told me there was someone in the basement. The basement has its own geometry: narrow corridors that smell of damp concrete and oil, where secrets are dragged out into the light. It is where things that people hide upstairs get solved downstairs.

“And there’s not a shower curtain in your bathroom anymore.” “Oh yeah.” The pleasant reminder set a dark fire burning in his loins. Jim stepped closer, nuzzling along her neck until he elicited a low moan and a pleasant shiver that made him want more. Beneath the trail dust, the faintest feminine musk lingered, soft and teasing, and sent a static jolt into his jeans, stirring his member. “There’s a shower in the basement. It’s small, but two people can use it. If they’re friendly.”

I fucking hate basements. "I... I'll be good. I promise, just don't put me in there" I beg them but they're not even listening to me. The last coherent thought I have is that I will skin them alive myself once I get out of here. After that, I can't tell what's real and what isn't. The smell of blood is everywhere. There are a few cells, all empty. I'm thrown into one. The lights down here are dim, they always are. Every basement is the same. Sooner or later, those things will start crawling around me. I can't, won't wait for them. Raising my knees to my chest, I lay my forehead on them and close my eyes. If I stay really still, they will go away. Go away. Go away. Go away...

I discouraged him but he waved his hands as if to say ‘Bring it on’. “How bad could it be? Let me hear it and cut the shit.” He groaned while unlocking the door to a very dark area. “This place reeks of dust, you rarely use it right?” I questioned while covering my nose from the stench smell. “Yeah, we use the general basement, but this is the first time I'm having a personal issue that involves a private basement.” He answered while stepping into the gated room and dropping the rogue on the floor like some sack of potatoes which earned a painful groan.