"So, do you like pancakes?" Max asked, his eyes focusing on mine. I nodded and sat down. The house was pretty simple. A small kitchen with a rectangular table. There was a countertop with a coffee maker, a couple of glasses, and a water tank. There was a living room with two velvet sofas and a black carpet. A tv sat in a small, coffee-brown table in the middle of the room. To the right were two rooms; the one I had slept in and another one, it was bigger than mine (I later figured out), with the door locked. Next to the kitchen was a bathroom with a white door, and next to that was a back door. It led to a beautiful, lush garden with trees and flowers of every kind.
"So... tell me, what's your name?" He said, sitting in front of me.
"My name is Autumn." I said, blushing a little bit.
"Cool. Where are you from?"
"California. You?"
"New York"
"Is that where we are?"
"No."
Saying that, he quickly got up and grabbed a glass of water. I stabbed my pancake with my fork and stuck it in my mouth. I remembered the wonderful taste of freshly-cooked pancakes...it had been a while.
I finished my pancake and left the plate in the sink, washing my hands as I did that. I looked back, and saw Max sitting in the couch with a book in his lap. I wanted to tell him everything. Everything my dad had done to me. Everything I had been through. But I couldn't. I didn't know him. I didn't know if he was a killer or a psyco.
"I like you." He said, looking back at me.
"I...you do?" I said, turning around, clearly surprised.
"Yeah. You are very pretty. I shouldn't have said that. I feel like a rapist now..." He said with a chuckle.
"No.. I like you too...."
"Great!" He said, standing up and hugging me. Something about him seemed familiar. Like I had known him for a long time. Then, it hit me. He was Max. The small boy from my elementary school that always looked at me. He always helped me and I never saw him again after the news. They said he had gone missing after his parents died. We were both ten years old.
