Just as the boy, not much older than myself, was about to ask me another question, the door to the interrogation room flew open. A man stepped inside, and a familiar voice boomed, "What's going on here?"
I was shocked. Dad? He walked over to me and untied my bonds. Then he turned to yell at the two guys that had been in the room. They quickly ran out, and my father turned to face me.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." he said, pulling me into a hug.
I had to choke back tears. He hadn't called me that or given me a hug since Mom died. It was a nice surprise.
Taking my hand, also a surprise, he led me to the car. It was a long ride home. When we got there, Dad went up to his office and locked the door, leaving me to my own devices.
Once again bored, I went to my room. Laying on my bed, I felt something in my pocket. Pulling it out, I noticed it was a slip of paper with a phone number written on it. I rolled my eyes. One of the guys that found me must have slipped it into my pocket while I was passed out.
Setting the paper on my desk, I lay back down and stared at the ceiling. Wishing I had food, I imagined the fridge. Mentally opening it and looking through, I found some chicken. I smiled, and imagined it cooking in the oven. Suddenly, I smelled something cooking.
Walking past my dad's office, I saw the door still closed and locked. I ran downstairs to the kitchen and saw the oven on. Peeking inside, I saw chicken.
I ran upstairs, grabbing the phone on the way, and ducked into my room. Grabbing the number off my desk, I hastily dialed it. After three rings, a voice answered.
Freaked out, I could feel tears coming down my face. "What's happening to me?" I sobbed.