From what I can recall, basements resembled one of two things: a dingy, damp cellar or another room for someone to live in. That is what I can remember from my childhood. But this was not a basement.
The floor was polished to perfection but was black. I could see our reflections clearly. The walls were not bare but lined with gray boxes. Not not boxes but…refrigerators? I could hear a quiet hum from them as they lined the far side of the wall. Other than for the many appliances, it was empty. No tables or boxes that showed a spec of life.
This would be a serial killer’s dream room.
I felt a sliver of fear form deep in my belly. A cold feeling began to crawl up my throat. However, Ella’s words echoed in my brain and I tried to stifle the negative feelings. She would not hurt me. I had
