25

There’s nothing sadder in the world than an empty refrigerator. I remember a time where it was popular to make movies about young boys and girls fighting off illnesses, but I wouldn’t even be able to shed a single tear for any of those movies with the comparison point of an empty refrigerator.

A bright orange light spilled over the enclosed space as the compressor rang out with a hollow hum. Functionally, it was like opening a cardboard box, but a fridge is a home appliance, an electrical product, which makes it all the more tragic to find one empty.

What could that empty machine be spending all its energy on trying to cool? That concept alone carries immeasurable sadness, like a novel with no readers.

Naturally, I checked the freezer and vegetable compartments next. It was a good-sized fridge fitting the overall size of the house, so each compartment was rather spacious. But all that was packed into that space was cold air.

There wasn’t even ice in the ice maker.

It was a truly empty fridge.

…Okay, fine, technically speaking it wasn’t completely empty. There were two things in there. The fridge section had a bit of strawberry jam and margarine in it. But taking that to mean the fridge wasn’t empty is a bit of a stretch.

A little bit of bread could have helped the situation, but there were no such staples in the house. U definitely wasn’t going to eat jam or margarine directly. The kitchen had other condiments like salt, pepper, and soy sauce, but those were hardly fitting for a complete breakfast.

There was too much evidence to make any more excuses. Of course, I was the only person making those excuses… meaning I couldn’t deceive myself anymore.

U. U. did not eat breakfast or dinner. Even if she wanted to, there was nothing for her in the house. It didn’t matter if she could cook. All she could do to stave off her hunger was drink water, just like I did earlier.

That meant that the only decent source of nutrition U had came from her school lunch. That was all she had to eat.

And I ate it. I ate it all.

I said I was hungry, demanded food, and took away a little girl’s meal. Her only meal of the day, to boot.

They weren’t leftovers at all.

U left her lunch alone, stuffed it into plastic bags, and took it home… for me.

I really didn’t want to start thinking about the level of willpower that would require from such a young child.

Not to mention the guilt I felt over all the complaining I did while eating it… Okay, in the back of my mind, I didn’t feel entirely guilty. If it really came down to guilt, then the girl who kidnapped and imprisoned a man was certainly more guilty.

Giving up one meal didn’t exactly absolve her… in fact, her actions could be considered unforgivable. Anything else would just be the Stockholm Syndrome talking. Why should I feel sorry for her? Just because she’s a child? It was only one meal. Sure, her only meal of the day, but just one meal total. That was no reason to kick up a fuss.

But what if, for example, it became two meals? Wasn’t U going to bring home another school lunch that she didn’t touch for me?

That thought made me shiver in fear.

I racked my brains for a possible solution.

But it wasn’t like I had what it took to solve the situation, so all I could do was close the refrigerator and shuffle on back to the closet.

Derailing the closet door hadn’t been all too hard, but putting it back was a real trick. Getting it on the rails from the inside was quite the feat, but just as I gave up the task as impossible, it was suddenly back on the rails. Unfortunately, with the way it happened I had no idea how to replicate it.

I hoped to do it a little better next time. As in, the next time I left the closet and went back.

The fact that I could even have that thought proved that I no longer had any plans to call the police or leave the U household.

That reality is frighteningly clear. But at the time, I was the only one who didn’t notice.