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He hummed in response and was silent for a beat before speaking. “Do you have a family?”
I stopped in my tracks and looked up at Silas. It was rare he asked me anything personal, mostly because he didn’t know what to ask. I had mentioned that I had some memory issues since being here, but I didn’t think he fully understood what that meant. He didn’t have people, places, or memories to forget. This dungeon had been his entire life.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“Is that one of the things that got knocked loose?” Silas asked. I had used that term once, weeks ago, and it had stuck in his mind like glue.
I nodded. “Probably. Do you know if you have a family?”
“Yeah, I think I did,” he explained. “I think I had brothers. I remember… I remember two people who looked like me. I think they were my brothers.”
“What about friends?” I continued. He was only six when he was taken, so I wasn’t shocked that he didn’t fully remember his brothers. All he truly knew was his name: Silas.
He clammed up, clamping his mouth shut. I nudged him with my elbow as we walked down the hall slowly. “You can tell me.” I kept my voice quiet, because despite the weeks spent with each other, Silas was still easily spooked. He probably always would be after living in this hellhole.
He sighed. “I had friends. One every year. A new one every year.”
“Before you came here?”
He shook his head. “While I’m here. Father brings them. Every fifty-two visits… one time a year. They come, then they leave. He takes them back.”
I swear I short-circuited, the implication hitting me like a wave. I pulled him to a stop and looked him directly in the eyes. “Others have been here? Not just you and me?”
He nodded. “Nine. Nine friends.”
“Silas,” I breathed. He held the lantern in his hand tightly, but my eyes had been adjusting over the weeks we had been here. I was able to better make out his features, and his grey eyes and dark hair were now forever imprinted into my mind. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“They all left; I thought you would, too,” he explained. “Usually, they’re young. Younger than me. A lot younger than you.” I chose not to be offended at him calling me old. I was probably the oldest person he could remember speaking to, so I couldn’t fault him. “I’m not used… I’m not used to being able to talk to someone. Really talk.”
I reached out and took his hand softly. He had stopped flinching every time I reached for him. “What happened to them?”
“I never let Father touch them. I always took it,” he insisted. “I did everything I could to keep them safe. Keep them here.”
My heart broke for the boy who had the only people he ever knew snatched away from him. “It’s not your fault. It’s Father’s.”
He swallowed. “Father has spoken to me three times. The first time, he told me he finally got it right again. I don’t know what he meant, and he never explained. The second, it was after my fourth friend was taken. He said they weren’t right. He needed to find the first again.”
“And the third?” I asked.
Silas shook his head. “Don’t make me tell you, please.”
I wanted to know so badly. I wanted to know more than anything, but I wouldn’t pressure him. Silas deserved to have a choice for once, and I would honor his decision. “Okay.”
He smiled softly. Barely, but it was his own version of a smile. “I-I don’t know how to say this right,” he began and glanced at his feet. “I don’t want you here, but I’m happy you’re here. It doesn’t make sense.”
I shook my head. “No, no, it makes sense. You wish we weren’t here at all, but you’re glad it’s me?”
He nodded. “Exactly.”
“Can I ask you one more thing about your friends?”
He nodded again.
“What happened to them? You said you didn’t let Father touch them, but he said they weren’t right. Do you know where they went?”
“He had a—” He closed his eyes as he thought it over, trying to remember the word. His vocabulary had grown since I had been here, but he still struggled to pick the right words. “It’s not a knife; it’s small, but it stabs. It’s what I use to sew, but there’s something in it.”
“A needle?”
