"Wake up, sleepy head... " a hushed voice and a gentle set of hands shook me out of my much-needed sleep. I peeled open my eyes, blinking them a few times until they regained their clarity to find Loretta hovering over me like some sleep paralysis demon from my worst nightmares.

Holy- that's a face I wasn't expecting to see! She rarely ever comes into the basement; complains it hurts her knees to climb up and down the stairs. So, if she's down here it can't be good.

"Good, you're awake!" she chirped, her temperament way too cheery for the morning.

"What-what time is it?" I asked, propping up on my elbows, my voice still heavily groggy with sleep.

"Well, I don't know exactly, but the sun is up and we've got too much to do for ya to be sleepin' like some lazy house cat "

Huh? What is she talking abo- Aw crap! The wedding! Gosh, darn it! I thought I'd dreamt it. Everything in me wants to roll over and go back to sleep; I really don't want to face today. Why couldn't it have all been a dream?!

I glanced around the room, but Bubba was nowhere to be seen which is unusual considering he's always here when I wake. "Where's Bubba?" I asked, sitting up and stretching my arms above my head.

"Out doing chores with his brother and taking care of some last-minute business." She slid into bed beside me and combed her fingers through my tangly chestnut locks. "I was thinkin' that we could spend today gettin' to know each other better considerin' I'm gonna be your momma now."

My mother? Ha! More like my psychopathic cannibalistic captor. Try as she might, she will never be my mother. Tears prick at my eyes when I think about the panic my actual mother must be feeling. I can't imagine what my parents are going through. I know that gut-wrenching feeling all too well. I feel it every time I think of Matt.

"Sure, that'd be great. " I answered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Good!" Her entire face lit up as she clapped her hands together in front of her chest. "How 'bout we start with breakfast? I've prepared us a down-right feast."

I followed her through the dead silent house. The sun was peeking up above the horizon turning the sky into an orange and pink ombre. As she said, the boys were nowhere to be seen. It's almost unnerving to not have Bubba following me around like a lost puppy. I feel safer with him around.

"I thought we could take our meal in the kitchen today," she said as we crossed the threshold into the room. "It's more quaint, you know."

Quaint is definitely not the word I would use to describe the kitchen. Actually, I'm not sure there is a strong enough word to describe it. Repulsive, appalling, grotesque? No, words like that don't do it justice.

One half of the room was full of your basic kitchen appliances and cabinets straight out of the 40s in need of a good scrubbing while the other half was lined with floor to ceiling shelves loaded down with pots and pans, old tins, empty beer bottles, and other random junk spilling out onto the floor. Looks like an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive in here.

Bird cages, some empty, others occupied with skeletal remains of small animals dangled from ropes strung from the ceiling rafters. Alongside them, various cuts of raw meat stabbed through hooks were strung out to dry. Scarlet ribbons of blood streamed out and puddled onto the tile floor at our feet, running into the grout lines as if they were aqueducts.

"Mind grabbin' that pitcher of milk for me." She pointed towards a farmhouse table piled high with dirty dishes acting as a makeshift island in the middle of the room.

I walked over and picked up the glass jug from the tabletop stained with rust-colored splotches of old blood long soaked into the wood. Deep gashes, probably from knives and other butchering equipment hacked up the surface; huge chunks from the table were missing in some places. It reminded me of an old tree stump used to splice wood that's been chopped at with the blade of an ax many times.

The hair on my arms stood straight up when I thought of all the people who've died right here on this table. I suddenly regretted eating anything Loretta's cooked.

A small table shoved in the corner was set with two place settings along with platters full of eggs, unidentified meats, biscuits, and other dishes. When Loretta said she prepared a feast, she wasn't kidding.

"Will the boys be joining us?" I asked, slipping into one of the seats, the one closest to the door in case things changed and I needed to bolt.

"Shoot no. They'll eat later," she said, pouring us both a glass of milk and piling our plates down with a little of everything.

Stabbing a fork into a strip of wavy red meat, she went to put it on my plate. "No! No, thank you. I don't want any of that." I blurted out, holding up my palms and shaking my head.

"Honey, I swear it's just bacon. Bubba killed a pig fresh this mornin' for you. He wants to make sure his bride is well fed."

" Oh... that's so... sweet of him," I said, reluctantly allowing her to put a few strips on my plate. It looks like bacon, it smells like bacon, so it must be bacon, right? Maybe she's lying and trying to trick me into eating human meat to convert me into cannibalism...or maybe I'm overthinking it and it really is just bacon. I don't know what to believe anymore.

"Bubba was so upset when I told him he couldn't see you until the weddin'- it's against tradition, you know. The poor dear was cryin' and pitchin' such an ugly fit. I can tell he really loves you."

"Does he?" I asked absentmindedly, my eyes entranced with the deep brown droplets of dried blood splattered across the ceiling.

"Oh yes! I've never seen him so happy. Especially since his accident."

That's the second time they've mentioned his 'accident'. I'm curious to know what it's all about. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly did happen to him?"

"Well, Jed's always been a wee bit slow, if you know what I mean, but he's a good boy, not a mean bone in his body so we don't mind. When he was just a youngin', barely up to my shoulders, he and his brothers were out goofin' around when some trespasser on MY land had the nerve to give my baby a bullet to the mouth." her voice trailed off as she looked away. "I fixed him up best I could, but he was never able to get his words out again... That is until you came along and gave my boy his voice back." She reached across the table and tenderly ran her knuckles down the side of my face. "And for that, I'll be forever grateful."

Oh, so that explains the scars across his face. I don't know why, but I almost feel bad for him. He was just a kid. A kid who was probably up to no good, but a kid nonetheless. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't think Bubba's a bad person; he was just raised by the wrong people. They're the ones who've made him into what he is.

Most of our meal was spent by Loretta babbling on and on about her family values. I nodded occasionally, pretending to pay attention but my mind was in other places, like coming up with a plan to escape this hellhole.

"Well, I am stuffed," Loretta said, swiping a napkin across her mouth. "Now it's time for the fun part- getting you all dolled up!"

I slugged down the rest of my milk and followed her upstairs into a small bedroom consisting only of a twin bed, neatly made and outfitted with a colorful patchwork quilt, a trunk at the foot of the bed, a chest of drawers, and a vanity with a smudged mirror in desperate need of dusting. This must be Loretta's room; it's too clean to be Nubbins and Bubba, of course, stays in the basement.

She opened a door in the corner and gestured for me to follow her. I tarried in the doorway of a tiny bathroom that was barely big enough for two people to stand in and gave off the overwhelming smell of urine. A porcelain tub with a thick ring of grime sat against one wall and a toilet and chipped pedestal sink against the other. The room was covered in dark red wallpaper and was devoid of any windows making it feel more like a closet than a bathroom. The only light source came from a single flickering lightbulb, soon to die out, mounted above the sink.

"Take your clothes off, dear," she said flatly.

"What?!" I furrowed my brow and took a few steps away.

"We're both girls, honey. Nothin' to be ashamed of." She leaned over the tub and started the water. "Come on, strip off. Unless you want me to do it for you."

Something in her eyes tells me that's no empty threat. I pulled my shirt off over my head and tugged my jeans off, clutching them against my body, trying to hide what I could as I stood there in nothing but my underwear. I could feel my face redden with embarrassment as she finished drawing the water and turned around to face me.

"My, my, my, you sure are a looker. Such a beautiful body. I'm gonna go get some towels, and I want you in that tub by the time I get back, young lady."

She left the room in search of towels, letting the door fall closed behind her. There's no window in here to escape from and she'll be back any minute so there's no time to try the one in her bedroom. Gosh, dang it! I guess I'm taking a bath.

I stripped my underwear and bra off before stepping into the shallow lukewarm water filling the tub. It took everything in me to gain the courage to submerge my entire body into the cool water, but the longer I sat there the nicer if felt against my skin. I dunked my head into the water, darkening my hair and letting cold droplets trickle down my face. How long has it been since I've bathed last?

Loretta came back in with a bar of soap and some towels in her arms. "Good, you're in," she remarked, kneeling down and dipping the bar of soap in the water and proceeding to run it across my back.

"I'm not a child, Loretta." I pulled away and wrapped my arms around my bare chest "I think I can wash myself."

"Why don't you let your mother take care of you, sweetie. I've always wanted a daughter, you know. Someone to dress up in pretty clothes and do all that other girly stuff with."

"But you're not my mother, Loretta, and I'm not your daughter," I spat the words out, unable to listen to her talk about this as if it were normal. "My real mother is out somewhere looking high and low for me worried to death about where I am."

Her whole demeanor changed. Even the mood of the room took on a threatening feel. She grabbed my jaw, digging her fingers into my chin and snapped my head around to face hers. Her expression went cold and steely, eyes full of fire. I've never seen this side of her...It's frightening.

"No more of that talk! I may not be your mother yet, but in a few hours, when you marry my boy, I will be, and you will call me momma like the rest of 'em do 'cause I am your mother now! Do you understand?"

"Yes- yes ma'am," I said with a nod, my eyes wide with shock.

Her voice softened into its normal state, she released her clasp on my face and gently brushed the wet stringy hair from my shoulders. "Just because you gave birth to someone doesn't make you their mother. That other woman, the one who raised you, will never love you the way I already do. You will never find a more loyal and loving family than ours."

I didn't say anything. What could I say? I wrapped my arms around my knees and rested my head against my legs, turning my face away before she could see the tears slip from my eyes. She massaged her soapy fingers through my hair while humming some old ballad.

I just want this to be over, and I'm not talking about the bath. I want this whole nightmare to be over. I want to be at home with my family, with Matt, watching a cheesy movie and eating Dominos pizza. I want to forget about this place and everyone in it. I want things to go back to normal. Is that too much to ask?