The strange, unexpected, & supernatural

The Cage (Josephine) 2

I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.  Awakening to the brightness, the feeling strikes that I'm not alone.  Sitting up from the air mattress, the man situated on the floor on the opposite side of the glass confirms my theory.

"Morning Joey," he smiles.  "I got you breakfast.  I know you're hungry."

I'm about to verbally protest, but my stomach emits a sound rumble.  Brendon stands and heads to the desk.  I rise with the little energy I have, feeling slightly dizzy.  He opens a small door.  A plastic box sits within a glass cube embedded in the cage with a handle on either side.  "What is it?"  I monotonously inquire.

"See for yourself," he smiles.

I look into his eyes for any sign of temptation, but they narrow shallowly.   I gradually pull the handle on my side, taking the container.  I open it and withdraw one of two muffins.

"It's banana," he says.

Slowly, I bring it to my mouth and bite it.

"Is it good?"

I nod.

"I baked them this morning."

I don't reply.

"Aren't you gonna ask why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did I bake as opposed to getting store-bought muffins?"

"Are we getting to know each other?"

"I guess we are."  He sits on the floor.  I hesitate but do the same.  "Well..."

"Why'd you bake them?"

"Figure it out."

I want to snarkily retort but abstain from it.  "Because you care?"

He smiles and nods.  "Very much so. Why do you think I care?"

"You wanna sell me."

The smile fades.  "Sell you?"

I shrug and eat another bite.

"No one's paying me to do this."

"So, what are you going to do with me?"

"Can't give you a hint."

I shake my head and attend to my muffin.

"Hey, you're gonna thank me later."

"Unless you mean this ends with you behind bars, yes.  My parents called the cops."

"Doubt it."

I pause, meeting his eye.   "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"If they didn't call them, they're looking for me.  I'm usually home at this time."

"Hmm.  How is your home life?"

I freeze.  "Fine."

Brendon doesn't say anything for a while.  He stares impassively, then stands to go to the staircase.

"What, that's it?"

He stops and looks at me.  "Look, this doesn't work if you don't trust me."

"Who said I didn't trust you?"

"No one had to say it, but the fact that you lied about your family and home life spoke loud and clear."

I quickly put the half-eaten muffin in the container and rise sharply.  "Well, I'm sorry if waking up and spending all day in a glass box is making me lose my fucking manners!"   I kick the glass angrily with the side of my foot, storming toward the adjacent edge of the cage, leaning my shoulder and head on the glass so my back is to Brendon.  I wait for the lights to go out.

They don't.   Instead, I hear footsteps.  "You can talk to me," he says.

I don't budge, then sigh and return to my spot on the floor.  So does he.  "Okay," I rub my face. "I'll tell you this if you tell me something about you."

He nods.  "Anything you want to know."

I purse my lips.  "You're right.  I lied. The truth is, I have none of that.   My mom died when I was six and I was sent to a foster home.  I turned 18 not that long ago and by law, they kicked me out. I've been roaming the streets ever since."

"What about your father?"

"Never knew him.  He was alive or they would've sent me to an orphanage, but he could be dead now for all I know."

"I'm sorry, Joey."

"It's fine."

"Really, I'm sorry."

I nod.   "Your turn."

"Shoot."

"I'm honest with you so you have to be honest with me too."

"Of course."

"True or false?  You knew all of that but wanted me to tell you."

"True."

"How?"

"I know a lot about you, Joey."

Creeped Out is an understatement at this point.  "What was the point of telling you?"

"Faith."

I stare.   "Am I just your talking piece?"

"Much more than that."

I try to assemble it all.  "That means you knew my name too."

He nods.  "Yes."

"Is this your way of adoption or something?"

He shifts his mouth.  "Kind of. Not exactly."

"I'm going home with you?"

"Eventually.  But you'll want to once you know your purpose here."

I look down at my twiddling fingers.

"We can change the subject if you want."

I nod, a bit more comfortable with eye contact now.  "What's your profession?"

"I own a bookstore."

My eyebrows perk up.

He smiles.  "I knew you'd like that.  Not extravagant or anything, but it brings great income."

I lick my lips.  "My mom read to me often.  That's how we spent time together.   It was short, but I'm glad it happened when it did."

"I'm sorry, Joey."

"It's not your fault.  I wasn't the smartest when it came to math and science, but I always succeeded in English.  The other kids in my home wanted the new iPhone every year.  You know the state wouldn't give it to them.  I got everything I wanted because all I asked for was books. Hell, sometimes they'd be sent to the home for free."  I laugh airly.

"Must've been nice."

"Made me a target.  The girls would get so envious they'd beat me up and the next morning, some of my books would be missing."  I bite my lip softly.   "I came from school one day and they were on my bed.  Every page was desecrated: Either torn or had hateful words written.   I couldn't take any of them when my 18th birthday came around."

Brendon doesn't say anything for a minute, then rises.  "I have to work.  I'll be back later tonight."

He leaves me sitting there and the room cuts to dark.