Sins of the Father

4 | Breakfast

He comes down again about an hour later—or, what I assume is an hour. Balancing on one hand is a tray, its contents covered by carefully placed napkins. In his other hand is a plastic cup of clear liquid that I hope is water and not poison.

He sets everything down at the foot of the staircase, smiles at me, and leaves. His silence catches me off guard. He talks so much, and it feels strange that he leaves without another word.

Even after the door is locked behind him, I stay where I am, staring at the tray. I'm surprised. I'm very hungry, but not nearly as hungry as he could have made me. I assumed he would starve me for as long as possible before throwing me a bone.

I carefully approach the gifts, and the first thing I do is touch the tray. It's cardboard, not metal like I was hoping. He knows what I'm thinking before I even think it.

I take off the napkins, and I'm surprised yet again. The tray contains a colorful, warm breakfast like the ones you see in shows. Bright cheerful eggs, blueberries, a toasty waffle, and even a little cup of syrup. It's more luxurious than the breakfasts I usually eat, and it makes me feel weird.

I poke the eggs, debating. The food might be poisoned; best case it'll make me sick and make me wish I was dead, and worst case it will actually kill me. If I don't eat it, I will actually starve to death. Eventually. I don't know how long it would take, but I don't want to find out.

There's no fork, only a spoon, and it's also cardboard. I scoop a small bit of egg into my mouth and chew carefully. It tastes good. I don't know if that's because I'm delirious or if the man is genuinely a good cook, but it tastes good. A few bites in, and I don't feel sick at all.

There's just enough food to make me feel satiated. I drain all the water and then sit back and inspect the cardboards. There's not much I can do with it, not unless I want to simply annoy him by throwing it at his face, so I sigh and don't bother trying to hide any of it.

How long have I been here? Did Mom eat her mac and cheese? Has she realized I'm missing?

She's going to blame herself. Matt's going to blame himself. I'm already blaming myself. But none of us are at fault. I'm only here because of him and because of Annie. I try to stoke that anger, hoping it will give me an idea. That it will give me energy, that it will heal my hand faster so I can find a way to escape with my life.