Astray

06 / Breakfast

She didn't make it very far.

It happened too fast for her to really comprehend anything; all Emerson knew in her efforts to get help was that before she reached the person closest to her—a middle aged, grey-haired man—she had been yanked backwards by her hair, and fell painfully onto the floor.

"No!" she shrieked, her eyes welled up with tears from the pain, as she twisted to try and get away. Felix was crouching over her, his hand tangled in her long hair, with a look of exasperation across his face. Emerson froze.

"Stand up right now, and I'll forget you tried to run from me," he said, deadly quiet, kneeling close so only she could hear it.

Emerson was so flustered and angry about being thrown to the ground that she listened, letting Felix pull her up to stand on shaky legs. He let go of her hair, but reverted to wrapping a hand around her upper arm tightly.

For a second, no one moved. Emerson stared at the five people around the table. There were four men, all standing, clearly ready for whatever might have happened if she had actually reached the table, and a woman. Emerson knew at once that these people must be related to her captor; Felix had the same sharp jawline and sloped nose as the men, and bore the same light brown eyes and dark curly hair as the woman, who was still sitting.

It was his goddamn family.

"Felix?" said the grey-haired man, eyeing his son.

"I've got it," Felix said firmly. "Sit down, geez. It's fine." The men sat, although they looked wary, as Felix pulled Emerson to the table and sat her down in a chair. His hand remained tight around her.

"This is Emerson," Felix said. "Em, these are my parents, David and Eliza," he indicated the man closest to her with the grey hair, and the woman, who smiled softly, "and my brothers, Calvin, Travis, and Logan."

Emerson didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. Hadn't they heard her? Hadn't she screamed help, and been thrown to the ground a moment ago? Why weren't they alarmed?

"Ah, very nice to meet you, Emerson," David said, eyeing her closely.

"She's even more beautiful in person, Felix," gushed his mother.

"What do you say, Em?" Felix asked pointedly, his fingers digging hard into Emerson's arm.

"I..." she stuttered, her mind still reeling. She had to try again. "You don't understand, I was kidnapped, and—"

"I think she means thank you." She was cut off—not by Felix—but by his father, who was watching her with narrowed eyes. "Eliza, check on the cinnamon rolls."

Ignoring Emerson's shocked expression, Eliza, who didn't look phased by any of the conversation, got up at once and began tending to the food.

"No, I was—" Emerson tried once more, this time turning towards the brothers, but she was silenced as Felix gave her arm a particularly harsh squeeze.

"Enough," he said sharply. "They're not going to help you. Just sit here, and be quiet."

So Emerson did just that, trying to process the utter shock she was feeling from the lack of reaction in the room.

What the fuck was going on? Was this some sort of family cult?

She'd known there were people in the house besides Felix; she'd heard their murmurs and footsteps outside of her door from the first day she'd woken up chained in the small room. But she figured they were cronies of some sort, working for Felix to aid in his fucked-up kidnapping plan.