the door to the basement is locked, but you don't remember where the key is. you know it's somewhere hidden, under the floorboards, under the mattress, over the door frame. it's somewhere. as the burning of your heart ignites your desire to go into the basement, you hear a creak coming from the stair. you don't want to feel it there, but you do. you spin and find that you're bleeding. the scars on your hand tell you you've been through this before.

suddenly, you're in the basement. the key is in your stomach and your heart still burns with passion. inside, your nightmares are all sat in concentric circles round and round the devil himself as he dances for you. you wonder about bible quotes and floods and how they got down here, but then they all stare at you with lidless eyes.

you blink first.

when you wake up, you're in bed and you're warm but the key is lodged in your throat and you're watching your parents make love, and you reach out to touch them.

they are no longer making love; they are consuming each other. their mouths close over each other's flesh and lovingly rip. the rips leave holes in skin that fill with blood and the smell is sweet-rotten, but soon they are nothing but lust and love and bones. even the bones have handprints.

so then you're upstairs again and you can't remember the basement but all you know is that the key's gotta be around here somewhere and you must have been crying because what is that lump in your throat?