Bubba pulled me down a rickety staircase, gripping my wrist tightly, into some sort of basement. The room was dimly lit, a flickering lamp without a shade being the only source of light. It took my eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. A long metal table sat in the middle of the room reminding me of a surgical table you'd see in hospitals.

He wrapped his arms around my hips and hoisting me up upon it before scurrying over to a wooden vanity in the corner, pulling open its drawers and messily rummaging through the contents.

Beside the vanity sat a makeshift bed on the floor which was more like a heap of blankets and pillows than anything. The other side of the room was lined with floor to ceiling shelves full of glass jars and canisters containing God knows what and a metal door propped slightly open.

He walked back to me, a pile of old rags and gauze in his arms and dropped them in a heap on the table beside me. I raised my injured hand up and turned my face away, squeezing my eyes closed. I had a very low pain tolerance and a feeling that it was going to hurt.

Taking my tiny hand into his much larger one, he pressed the rag into the cut, blotting at the blood that was flowing out making me wince at the stinging sensation.

"Is this your room? " I asked, attempting to distract myself from the pain.

He paused for a second and bobbed his head before continuing his work.

I looked around at the bone mobiles hanging from the ceiling and the various animal skins that lined the concrete walls. "It's nice. " I lied through my teeth "Very...cozy"

A big grin spread across his face stretching his lips open, revealing chipped and jagged yellow teeth. He took a step back and pointed to my hand as if he was waiting for me to inspect his handiwork.

I looked my hand over, which he had carefully and meticulously bandaged in thin white scraps of linen, then placing my fingers against my lips, I extended my hand towards him. Thank you!" I signed, "That feels much better."

He clapped his hands happily and rolled back and forth on his heels. Taking a step closer, he leaned in, his face mere inches from my own. Grabbing my wrist, he slammed my hand against his mask. My body shuddered at the odd leathery texture yet my fingers continued to explore every line and wrinkle almost entranced with the strange mask. A low moan escaped his lips and his dark eyes closed as his shoulders sunk into a relaxed state.

"Did you make this mask? " I asked running my hands across the stitches along the hairline and down the side of his face

He gave a short grunt which I assumed means yes.

"It must have taken you a long time. You're incredibly talented,"

His arms slowly slinked around my waist, sliding me closer to the edge of the table, and he lowered his head down to rest on my bosom. That's when the smell hit me. The sickly sweet smell of death and decay. It seemed to radiate off him. Off his mask. I took a ragged breath through my mouth trying my hardest to avoid gagging.

The basement door creaked open like nails on a chalkboard and the sound of footsteps descending the stairs drew my eyes to the foot of the staircase to where the mother appeared. Her thin lips curved into a smile upon seeing us. Bubba remained hugging me, unaware of his mother's presence in the room. It took her clearing her throat for him to finally release me, jumping at the sight of the lady like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Bubba, it's time for supper," she said crossing her arms over her chest and raising a single eyebrow.

He babbled something like an excuse and shook his head from side to side stepping in front of me, blocking my view. I slid off the table and stood partially behind him peeping out past his shoulder.

I don't know why, but for some reason, I felt safer with him than anyone else here. Maybe it was because he'd protected and provided for me countless times. Still, the fear of him snapping and turning on me weighed heavily on my mind.

"Ya heard me, boy. Get on upstairs and take 'er with you." her eyes scanned across my body, "Poor thang must be starved."

The three of us ascended the stairs into the foyer and through one of the doorways into a small dining room. A dark wood table sat in the middle of the floor with mismatched wooden chairs surrounding each side and the table top showing evidence of all the past burns, scrapes and stains that come from a rowdy family.

An old man in a wheelchair sat at the head of the table. His face was sickly pale, not an ounce of color in his cheeks. He sat so still, all slumped over like a ragdoll, that one would fear he was dead if it wasn't for the slow rising and falling of his chest.

Nubbins sat on one side of the table leaning his chair back on two legs. A scowl overtook his face at the sight of me. " Wh-What's she doing here?! " he said, gritting his teeth and pointing a fork at me.

" Hush!" their mother scolded. "She's Bubba's guest and you'll treat her kindly while she's 'ere."

Bubba pulled a chair out on the opposite side of the table from Nubbins and shoved me by my shoulders down onto the seat before walking around to the other side of the table and sitting down between his brother and the old man.

"This is Grandpa Sawyer." the mother said to me as she walked over to the old man and nudged his wheelchair closer to the table. "Say hi, Daddy,"

His body made no movement except for the almost unnoticeable fluttering of his lips as he attempted to mutter something as soft as a whisper but was swiftly thrown into a coughing fit. Bubba patted the old man's back like you would a baby until the torrent of hacking and wheezing died down.

"It's nice to meet you, sir. I'm Matilda. " I said, raising my voice a little so he might hear me in case he was hard of hearing.

"I'm Loretta and of course you already know my boys, Nubbins and Jedediah or as we call him, Bubba."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," I said forcing a smile.

"Hey, guess what" Nubbins leaned over the table drawing as close to me as possible without getting out of his seat.

"What?" I asked, leaning in closer too.

"Tha only reason you're here is 'cause Bubs is sweet on ya." he managed to say before erupting into a sea of laughter.

Bubba fidgeted in his seat, his eyes darting back and forth from me to his brother.

" He-he wants ya to be 'is girlfriend!"

I could feel a flush overtake my face, my cheeks surly pink, and I faked another smile. "Is that so?"

Bubba sunk down into his chair and hid his face in his hands, obviously embarrassed by his brother's statement.

"Enough of that talk," scolded Loretta as she took a seat at the head of the table "It's time to say grace. Now bow your heads, children."

Everyone clasped their hands and bowed their heads awaiting the blessing but I was too distracted by gawking at the furnishings of the room. Immediately, the first thing that stood out to me was the table's centerpiece–a taxidermy armadillo, a chicken's head and legs nailed to a wooden plank, and bones of various kinds.

"Lord, we thank you for the wonderful meal you have blessed us with and for the family surrounding us. In our time of need, when we thought we were to starve, you provided us a ram in the thicket. And for that, we are forever grateful. In Jesus' name we pray, Amen."

They didn't waste any time and began to fill up their plates with a little of everything on the table, every dish seems to be some sort of meat. Loretta sat a plate in front of me full of some weird kind of sausages and...steak? At least I think it's steak. I picked up the fork beside my plate and stabbed it into the meat; a mixture of grease and blood ooze out making my stomach churn.

"What is this? " I asked, pointing to the slab of meat on my plate.

Loretta paused, a bite of meat hanging from her fork nearing her mouth. "Steak," she said flatly, "Now eat up before it gets cold."

The smell of it all was enough to make me nauseous. Bile rose in my throat, but I forced myself to swallow it down. A knot forming in my stomach and I pushed the plate away. I was starving, but there's no way I'll be able to swallow a single bite without throwing it right back up.

Everyone around me was chomping away at the stuff like they were afraid to let any little bit go to waste. Bubba occasionally stopped to feed the old man a bite of something that looked like sausage but sure didn't smell like it.

"Matilda, dear, ya haven't touched a thing," said, Loretta eying my untouched plate.

"I...I don't think I can, ma'am. I'm not feeling too well, "

Nubbins slammed his fist on the table, a knife clenched tightly between his fingers. "Ya gonna eat it and ya gonna like it! " he shouted pointing a bony finger in my direction.

I flinched at the outburst nearly knocking over the glass of water beside me.

"Nubbins! " Loretta yelled

" She ain't gonna sit there and disrespect you, Momma. I won't stand for it. "

"I'm so sorry! I don't mean any disrespect, but-" I started to say before being cut off by Nubbins.

"In this house, it's either eat or be eaten," he turned to his mother, his eyes full of anger "and if she ain't gonna eat then what other choice is there?"

Bubba shook his head from side to side and whimpered, rocking back and forth in his chair.

What does he mean by that? What does any of this mean? My mind was swimming with all that had occurred; The strange meat, Bubbas crazily realistic mask, Loretta's prayer, Nubbins threat. A sudden realization comes over me like a spark to kindling. What if Bubba's mask looks real because... it is real? And this steak isn't steak, is it? What if they kidnapped Matt and I because– are we Loretta's 'ram in the thicket'?

I gripped the arms of my chair and my fingers brushed"Oh, God," I whispered under my breath

I wanted to bolt, but my feet wouldn't move. Loretta and Nubbins were arguing across the table. The grandfather was having another coughing fit, and Bubba was crying and rocking in his chair.

I'm stuck in a room with a bunch of psychotic cannibals...