(Narrator: Elena)
We brought him out of the cellar two days ago.
Physically, he was sitting in the living room. Caleb and Tyson had managed to bathe him and cut his matted hair. He was wearing clean clothes—a soft flannel shirt and jeans that used to be his favorites.
He looked like Marcus.
But he didn't feel like him.
He sat on the floor, not the sofa. He always sat with his back to the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, watching the room with wide, unblinking eyes. He didn't speak. He didn't react to his name.
And worst of all, he didn't look at Maya.
The Dinner Table
"I made his favorite," Maya said, her voice trembling slightly as she set a steaming plate of pot roast on the table. "He loves this. The smell... maybe the smell will trigger something."
She looked
