The Keyhole.

Submitted into Contest #130 in response to: Write a story titled ‘The Locked Door.’... view prompt

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Horror Thriller Sad

This story contains themes or mentions of physical violence, gore, or abuse.

I pressed my face against the cool metal of the door knob attached to the overly large door in my bedroom. There was a rather large key hole in this particular door knob, so it was easy to look out of. I peered out, listening carefully for any footsteps as I did. I was never able to see much, but it was refreshing to know whether or not they were coming. Straight across from the keyhole was the recliner my father sat in all day when he wasn’t messing with me. He wasn’t in it, but I didn’t hear him near the door either. 

When I realized there was no one hurrying back, I scurried away from the door and to my bed. I only had moments to finish before he came back. I plopped myself down on the floor and started filling out all of the questions on the sheet of paper before me. To me, it was homework, to anyone else it would’ve been torture. All of the questions on this piece of paper were impossible to figure out. I wouldn’t know that until later on in life though. 

I heard rustling near the door and a sudden click as I could only assume it was being unlocked. In a rushed manner I stood to my feet, paper in hand. Terrified, I kept my eyes locked on the door. Finally, my father, stinking of liquor and filth, walked into the room. His bloodshot eyes glared into my own. Those angry, horrifying orbs seemingly burning into the back of my head. I looked away, unable to hold eye contact anymore from the absolute rush of fear. 

“Did you finish your homework?” the large man’s loud and gravelly voice called out, causing me to retreat into myself. I was absolutely terrified.

“Yes, sir..” I muttered, knowing that I might have finished it.. But there was no way any of it was correct and I knew I was about to get a beating for it. 

“Then hand it over.” he said impatiently, reaching his rough hands out. 

“Oh the way those sting..” I thought to myself, handing the paper over to him in what seemed like slow motion. 

Whenever my hand finally extended out he snatched the paper out of my hands and looked down at it. A wide grin spread across his face and he shook his head back and forth slowly, and soft little sounds of “tsk, tsk, tsk..” came from out of him. 

“It seems that already.. There are so many of these answers that are wrong. You know what that means right?” he asked eagerly. 

Not quite as eagerly, I nodded my head. 

“This is going to hurt..” I thought, when suddenly his large, rough fist came into contact with my gut. 

A cry of pain slipped from my mouth as soon as I was hit. I know this excited him so, the grin and sounds of laughter mixed with my cries and screams for help only got louder as his fist slammed into my body repeatedly. Tears and other disgusting bodily fluids leaked from my face as the pain of it all started to become suddenly overwhelming. It felt like my body would just explode from it all. 

I took this moment to grab one of the spare keys he had on the large keyring attached to his side. The jingle that it made was no different than it was when he was beating me, so he didn’t notice in the slightest. 

As soon as I slid the key into my pants to keep it properly hidden, his fist came into contact with my face. A loud crack was heard and blood came rushing out of my nose and down my face. Soon my clothes were covered with the crimson red blood coming out of my face. 

When I could only assume he was finally satisfied, he left my room, locking the door behind him. I reached my hands up tenderly to my face to feel around my nose, it was crooked as all hell and I was in too much pain to even think about fixing it.

“It hurts..” I cried, plopping onto the ground in defeat. How could anyone possibly go through this everyday… I can’t do this anymore. 

“I’d rather die!” my own brain screamed. The sound gave me a headache and I grabbed the key from out of my pants, keeping it tightly wrapped up in my little hand. I crawled, practically dragging myself, to the door. 

I peeked out of the keyhole as my father sat down in his chair and popped what I could only assume was a handful of pills, into his mouth. As soon as these things put him to sleep, it was time to leave. 

I waited there, by the door for nearly an hour and a half when suddenly the loud sound of snoring filled my ears. I pushed the key into the keyhole and turned it slowly, trying not to make any sounds at all. The soft click sounded out, but couldn’t be heard over the snores. I pushed open the creaky door quickly so the creak wasn’t as long and stepped outside of the prison I called a bedroom. I went throughout the house, following the path I remember from when I was younger, into the kitchen. I opened up many of the drawers trying to find a knife, finally I found the right drawer. I grabbed one of the largest and sharpest looking blades with haste, going back towards the room my father was sleeping in. 

The door to the outside was in this room, the living room, and it was the only way I knew I would be able to escape for sure. I looked down at my sleeping father and fear, pain, anger, and sadness twisted up inside my stomach causing tears to fall down my face. This man who was supposed to take care of me and make sure I was okay did nothing but abuse and trap me in a room. Anger suddenly became the main thing twisting inside of my stomach. I glanced down at the knife I had found and lifted my arm back behind my head, suddenly swinging the blade down into my fathers throat with as much force as I could muster. 

A cry of pain, and then gasps of air as he suffocated on his own blood filled my ears. The sound of his screams sounded so sweet. I swung back the blade and came back down again, this time into his stomach. His hands flailed up and around his neck, doing their best to cover up the large gash I left behind. 

“I understand why you liked it so much now.” I laughed out through gritted teeth. I grabbed him by a large handful of hair and practically yanked him out of his chair, the adrenaline finally setting in. He followed me, the pain of having his hair almost yanked out of his scalp becoming too much I could only assume. I stopped before the door of my bedroom. 

“Not bedroom.. Prison.” I thought, kicking him into the room. I walked inside and knelt down beside him, grabbing the key ring from his belt loop. 

I threw the keys into the living room where he used to sleep soundly as I laid here in fear, wondering when the next beating was. Rage boiled inside of me and I looked down at the pathetic man lying before me, crying out for mercy.

“There was no mercy when that was me on the ground bleeding.” I spat, walking out of the room. I shut the door behind me and locked it swiftly with the key I stole earlier. 

I turned away from the door, my brain going nearly a hundred miles an hour. That’s when it finally came to me. I went into the kitchen to find a small and more dull blade, something resembling a butter knife. When I came back to the door I noticed him peering out of the keyhole with fear filled eyes. This made my stomach do a little excited flip as I slid the small butter knife under the door. 

“And what do you expect me to do with this!” he called out, his voice more of a gurgle as he was choking on his own blood. 

“Just in case you decide you’re hungry before somebody finds your body.” I said with a smile, looking into his exposed eye. 

I turned away and walked out of that house with not a thought other than getting help in my brain. 

January 21, 2022 19:56

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4 comments

Chris Rohe
16:37 Feb 03, 2022

Brutal. Like it. Maybe some personal emotion? Great way to release anger, writing stories about it.

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Shelby Buchko
21:11 Feb 03, 2022

Thank you! And I agree. :)

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Thom Brodkin
21:07 Jan 31, 2022

I love how you made the prompt your own. :-)

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Shelby Buchko
08:08 Feb 01, 2022

thank you! :) i appreciate it!

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