The past is a scary thing sometimes. Such was the case for Elly Bromback. Elly has been receiving psychiatric care for the past ten years now, mostly to help her get over the horrid years she faced as a child.
Elly’s psychiatrist, Dr. Helen Hastings, recommended that Elly revisit her childhood home. She felt that upon re-entering the home, Elly might overcome of her fears.
Elly hesitated at first, but after the long climb up the stairs, she felt confident that she could now put her past behind her. Her hands trembled as she twisted the old glass doorknob, and putting her shoulder against the door, she was able to open it.
That all too familiar odor hit her as she entered the dark kitchen. Once inside, she shuddered to think what would happen if she seen him. This was not about to occur, as he passed long ago, shot in the line of duty, buried a hero.
As she walked down the hallway, a cold chill filled her body. Carefully heading towards her old bedroom, a squeaky floorboard filled the emptiness with a loud creak. With that, Elly broke down in tears, falling to her knees on the floor.
All at once she was back there, lying beneath the covers, remaining as quiet as she could, hoping that for one night her daddy would forget she was there. Everything was still now, and then it wasn’t. The floorboard creaked, and he burst into her room, getting ready to infect his little girl with his cowardice and cruelty. She tried to scream, but nothing came out. All the horrible noises were back, the sound of his belt hitting the floor, the sound of the mattress squeaking. Suddenly, her scream sounded, and Helen came to her rescue, holding Elly in her arms.
“The bastard!” cried Elly. “He died a hero, but he was nothing more than a pedophile who raped me and my sister every night, even after mom died!”
This tale is my entry into this week’s Trifecta Challenge. This week’s word is Infect: contaminate, corrupt <the inflated writing that infects such stories>