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Squirm’s hands
some restricted movement, enough for him to handle a mop and scrubbing brushes. From the center of the metal bar, a long chain connected it to the loop that had been fixed into the east wall. Every
room in the house had one, like power points, including the bathroom. Squirm was always shackled to a wall, no matter where he was. There were metal loops built into the walls in the basement too,
but he was never allowed down there.
    Actually, the basement scared Squirm speechless. Screams came from down there – desperate, full-of-fear-and-over-flowing-with-pain screams. The kind that would haunt one’s dreams for
ever. He’d heard them for the past few days. A woman’s voice, pleading, begging for the man to let her go. She even yelled out her name once. Or at least Squirm thought it was her name
– Nicole.
    The screams stopped sometime yesterday. He hadn’t heard her since.
    The man was also in the kitchen, sitting at the small, square breakfast table a few feet in front of Squirm. He was having his usual breakfast which consisted of a bowl of cereal, a cup of
coffee, a few slices of cheese, a raw egg, and some toast. His full attention was on the newspaper on the table, by his coffee cup. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge the boy’s
presence.
    Squirm’s stomach growled like a confused dog and that made every muscle in his body go rigid. He was not supposed to make a sound. The man had told him that.
    Terrified, the boy’s eyes flicked to the man for just a split second before quickly focusing on his manacled hands. The cuffs, even though they allowed him some movement, were fitted tight
around his tiny wrists and his morning cleaning chores had dug them further into his flesh. A thin circle of fresh blood decorated each wrist like a crimson bracelet.
    The man didn’t look up.
    Squirm’s stomach growled again, this time for a while longer. He hadn’t eaten anything for a whole day. There had been no scraps left over for breakfast, lunch or dinner the day
before. He was so hungry he could feel his legs weakening under him.
    The man finally finished eating and stood up. He paused by the kitchen door and looked back at the boy.
    ‘Lucky morning for you today, Squirm.’ He nodded at the table. ‘I’m not that hungry. You can finish that up.’
    Squirm looked at what was left but didn’t move. He was too scared to. The man had left him a bite of dried toast, about a sip of coffee, and three, maybe four spoonfuls of cornflakes with
milk.
    ‘Go on, Squirm, eat,’ the man ordered.
    Squirm rushed to the table, his shaking hands first reaching for the piece of dried toast. He grabbed it and immediately shoved it into his mouth, as though if he didn’t eat it fast enough
it would all be taken away from him again. It tasted like the most delicious piece of toast he’d ever eaten.
    The man watched him.
    Squirm grabbed the coffee cup and drank whatever was left in it in one single gulp. It tasted so bitter his entire face scrunched up. He had never liked coffee, not without milk and sugar, but
right now he would take whatever he got.
    Squirm then reached for the bowl of cereal and the plastic spoon.
    ‘Nah-ah,’ the man said with a headshake. ‘You know the rules, Squirm. No spoon. No cutlery. Use your hands, like the dirty animal you are.’
    Squirm dropped the spoon, grabbed the bowl with his right hand and brought it to his lips, but the metal bar between his wrists made it all too awkward, and though he managed to tip some of it
into his mouth, a whole spoonful spilled down his chin and on to the table and floor.
    ‘Are you throwing food away, you useless piece of shit?’ the man asked angrily, taking a threatening step toward the boy.
    ‘No, sir, no, sir, no, sir. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
    As carefully as he could, the boy placed the bowl back on the table and looked down at the tiny mess he had created.
    ‘Lick it all up,’ the man said. ‘Lick it up now.’
    Squirm bent