Amidst the Daffodils

Four

Isaac leads the girl downstairs to the main floor, where he takes her to one of the two dining rooms—the one meant for breakfast, where a table and six chairs are placed in front of a sliding glass door which shows the foliage outside. She sits down at the head of the table as he directs her to, settling herself into the large chair.

"What do you want to eat?" He asks, standing by to await her answer. "I'll make anything your heart desires."

She only shrugs, swallowing nervously.

"Mmm," he hums, "What about waffles?"

This time she nods quickly, making him laugh.

"Alright. Waffles it is. Blueberry, chocolate chip, or strawberry?"

She holds up three fingers, hoping he understands. To her surprise, he does.

"Strawberries. Got it."

With that he disappears through an archway which she assumes leads to the kitchen. Whilst he's gone, she does nothing but sit in the chair he'd put her in, soundlessly drumming her fingertips on the table. She looks out the window, already bored and with an urge to explore—but she doesn't want to test her limits. This isn't her house, nor does she even really know the owner. So she stays put, waiting impatiently for him to return.

When he does, it's carrying a plateful of stacked waffles in one hand and a bottle of syrup in the other. As soon as she smells the aroma, her stomach lets out another loud, angry growl.

He chuckles at that, eyes glistening. "Bon appétit," he says, placing her food down gently in front of her. "Use as much syrup as you want and if you need anything else just tell me."

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As the girl begins eating—having drenched her plate in syrup prior to—Isaac can't help but to watch her. When he sat the food down in front of her, her eyes lit up as though she hadn't eaten for days.

It makes him wonder for how long she was laying in that field, unconscious and vulnerable. There was no morning dew on her, although it was on the flowers and grass around her, so at least she couldn't have laid there the entire night.

This then leads him to the thought of where she was in the moments before she was dumped there—except dumped isn't the right word. She was laid there carefully: her arm couldn't have conveniently covered her chest, nor could her thigh and hip be situated in a way to cover her crotch, had she just been tossed down. Someone had taken the time to place her like that. Which means whoever abandoned her must have some decency, though Isaac still refuses to grant them that.

Who's custody had she been in? He wonders. And how long until he can get his hands on them, if ever?

But he already asked her all of his questions, and she couldn't answer them, though that isn't her fault. It came as a cold shock and a hot anger at something—anything which wasn't the girl pressed against the headboard—when he realized she has no memory.

She remembers nothing—not even her name. And he so badly wants to know her name. He yearns for it, to say it on his tongue or to hear it to see if it truly matches the girl it was given to.

He already asked his questions, now it's time she has a chance to ask hers.

As she's eating, he leaves her in search of a notepad and a pen. When he returns to find her plate empty, he pushes it aside in order to lay the pad and pen in its place in front of her.