“You’ll be sacrificed to the Supreme God when you are old enough,” that was what my parents always told me since I was around 5. “That’s the only reason you exist,” they kept repeating. “And learn. The Supreme God prefers educated victims.”
It was horrible growing up like this. I always knew something was wrong with our family. My parents held family meetings every month when they invited a few dozen of people to our home, and they all went down to the basement. One time I asked my father what they were doing there. He said that they were showing respect to the one true god and that I will understand it when I’ll be sacrificed, as soon as I reach 15 years of age.
I remember having a room alongside the kitchen. I wasn’t allowed to go inside, it was always locked. Its door had a black window, it was impossible to see through it.
My usual routine there was getting back from school, then spending the rest of the day learning, locked in my room. My teachers always asked the same question from me and my classmates. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
And I had no answer. What should’ve I told them? That I’ll be a sacrifice to some god my parents believed in? I mean, probably even I believed in this Supreme God. After all, I was raised like this, I had no idea who was right, my parents or our religion teacher. Years went by living like this, and I had no idea how unusual that was. And as the years went by, my 15th birthday came closer and closer.
I remember talking with a friend a day before my birthday. I tried to say goodbye, knowing that I’ll be dead by next week, and I still didn’t understand why. During this conversation, my friend told me that I must be joking. When I finally told him that I’d be sacrificed, he laughed at me. It took a minute for him to realize that I wasn’t joking.
“What?” he asked.
“I was born to be sacrificed to this god. They told me since I was a little kid,” I responded. His face was confused.
“Mate, are your parents crazy? That’s not normal, I mean… what the hell, dude? Call the police, don’t be stupid!”
“No, you don’t understand. That’s the only reason I exist!”
“Mate, I’m telling this to my parents tomorrow when they get home, that’s crazy,” he argued.
I begged him not to do it because I would get in trouble. Damn, I was a stupid kid.
The following day was a Saturday, it was my birthday. I woke up and spent the first half of the day learning in my room after I had breakfast. It was around launch time when I saw cars stopping at our house from the window. I counted at least 21 people arriving and coming inside. They probably went to the basement as usual, but I had no idea what to do. I was afraid.
Is it my last day on Earth, I asked myself. I just couldn’t believe they would kill me. I haven’t done anything wrong. I remembered the previous day, and what my friend told me. He was right, that’s crazy. They’re crazy, and I shouldn’t let them kill me just because they are crazy!
I tried to open my door, but as usual, it was locked. I panicked, and kicked the door, hoping they couldn’t hear it as they were in the basement. The door stood still. It had an old lock, so I thought it couldn’t be that hard to open it with force. Well, I was wrong. I kicked it again and again. My leg hurt like hell when the lock finally surrendered and the door opened.
I couldn’t believe that I could just finally leave that damn house. I slowly walked down the stairs, trying not to make any sound. Also because I couldn’t stand correctly on my left leg because of that fucking door.
I reached the kitchen and tried to open the door to escape the house, but it was also locked. It was the only door leading outside. I looked to my left, where the door with the black window was. I still haven’t set foot inside.
I went there to open it. I hoped that I could find the keys or something that could help me get out of the house. As I opened the door, I froze. Since I was born, I wasn’t allowed to go inside that room. It had a reason.
The room was large. It was probably the biggest room in the entire house, and in the corner, I still have no idea what was there that day. It was a terrifying creature, its skin was glowing in green and purple. It was crawling on at least five legs and had a horrifying face resembling a human with long brown hair. It screamed at me. I slammed the door shut, and tried to run somewhere, but my family also heard the scream from the basement, and they came upstairs.
“We told you not to go there!” my mother shouted at me. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll be sacrificed today as it was said by the prophecy.”
Before I could do anything, my father grabbed my arm and dragged me down into the basement. When we reached it, I could see the dozens of people who arrived earlier that day. The basement was designed like some kind of ritual place. I saw an altar and lots of strange symbols unknown to me. My father pushed me on top of a table and tied me down with a rope. I screamed, but nobody cared. They started chanting… rhythmic nonsense. There’s no other way to describe it.
My father grabbed an old knife, or rather a dagger. I screamed even harder, then heard something from upstairs. Everyone looked up as armed police forces rushed down the stairs.
“Everyone, hands up!” they shouted.
It was so surreal, I can’t even remember what happened afterward. I remember a few days later when they told me that my parents were in prison and that I’ll be placed in a school in another state. I still don’t know if they found that thing in the room with the black door. I spent the next few years constantly talking with a psychologist.
I want to find out what happened at my old house. I want to know what was that creature that lived there, and I want to know who was the god my parents believed in. I’ll find out one day, I know