The casserole smelled stronger than anything Isaac had tasted in years. Its steam fogged the kitchen's small, cracked window, blending with the rain outside. Isaac sat stiffly at the table, eyes locked on the worn wooden surface, while Paul hummed tunelessly as he plated the food.
"Here we go, hot and fresh," Paul said, setting a dish in front of him. His hands were rough, cracked with callouses, but the gesture carried a strange gentleness.
"Th… thank you," Isaac whispered, as he lifted the fork.
The first bite sent warmth flooding into his chest. Rich, salty, filling—it almost made him forget the taste of garbage clinging to his memory. He chewed slowly, forcing back the tears pricking at his eyes.
Across from him, Paul ate with big, heavy bites, glancing occasionally at Isaac as if measuring something.
"How long have you been... You know, out there, by yourself." Paul asked with both concern and curiosity.
"Just a few months," came a whispered response.
"I see."
what followed was a short silence that lasted a few minutes before Paul continued.
"Well, you have me now, I don't think I'm an expert at raising kids but... For one, you'll need strength," Paul muttered between mouthfuls. "Can't live life on scraps and rainwater."
Isaac nodded silently.
'Aww,' the hallucination cooed, sitting in the empty chair beside Paul, gnawing on a raw bone. 'This is so cute. Is this the legendary kindness.' The hallucination took a deep look at Paul as if assessing his entire ancestry, 'nope false alarm, this isn't kindness.'
Isaac tightened his grip on the fork but said nothing. He didn't dare respond.
"Tomorrow, I'll see if I can get you some clothes that fit. You can't go walking around in rags, not with people staring."
The thought sent Isaac's chest fluttering with something he hadn't felt in years hope. He lowered his head, hiding the small, fragile smile tugging at his lips.
The hallucination got up and walked over, sitting next to Isaac. Then it leaned closer, its cold breath brushing his ear. 'Hope is just the cruelest trick of all'.
Isaac blinked hard, forcing his eyes back to the casserole. He ate in silence.
When the plates were cleared, Paul stretched his arms with a grunt and muttered something about an early morning shift. He patted Isaac's shoulder—heavy but not unkind—before disappearing down the hallway.
Isaac remained at the table, staring at the empty plate, listening to the house settle with creaks and groans. For the first time in a long while, he felt full. For the first time, he felt like maybe he belonged somewhere.
"I promise not to mess things up," Isaac silently promised to himself
---
Later that night, in a rundown shed swallowed in near darkness, Paul sat hunched over a table, the dim glow of a single candle throwing his shadow across the wall in long, broken lines. His rough hands fiddled with a pack of cigarettes, though he never lit one. His eyes kept drifting toward the door as if waiting for something.
After a long silence, the floorboard creaked near the back door. Another man entered quietly—thin, gaunt, wearing a patched coat soaked through with rain. His eyes gleamed sharp and hungry in the dim candlelight.
"You found one?" the man asked, voice low.
Paul nodded slowly. "Scrawny, but desperate. Easy to keep. Easier to break."
A smirk stretched across the stranger's face. He sat down opposite Paul, clasping his bony fingers together. "You've always had an eye for strays. How long until he trusts you?"
"He already does." Paul's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Kid thanked me for dinner like I was a damn saint."
The stranger chuckled under his breath, a dry, rasping sound. "Good. The hungrier they are for love, the easier they are to use."
"This one's different, though." Paul leaning back in his chair, "Smarter than he looks. Broken, but not all the way. Gotta take it slow."
"Slow or fast, makes no difference," the man muttered, licking his cracked lips. "So long as we get what we need, But don't take too long, Paul. You know the rules."
"Ephesians 5:16," the man rasped, licking his lips. 'Make the most of every opportunity, for the days are evil.' He grinned, teeth yellow in the candlelight. "We are not evil. We are simply efficient."
Paul's expression darkened. "Don't rush me. Prey that trusts doesn't fight. And prey that doesn't fight… lasts longer."
The stranger raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Fine, fine. Do it your way."
"Three days," he said flatly. "We'll see how things go."
The candle sputtered, throwing shadows like claws against the walls, as if trying to reveal the ghostly silhouette that's watching the meeting with amusement.
"Oh boy... wait till Issac find out about this." conjuring a flower like magic the silhouette begin plucking the petals "Tell him... tell him not... tell him... tell him not... tell him..."
The smile on the silhouettes face stretches beyond normalcy as it stares at the last petal. "Make the most of every opportunity," the silhouette recited, plucking the petal.
"...Tell him not"
And in his small, yet warm bed, Isaac stirred, shivering, as though the words had whispered directly into his dream.