Dustin Miller┆Stranger

The pickup truck purrs like a kitten after Dustin and his son Ray fix it. Dustin gives the hood a firm smack before hopping in, a proud grin tugging at his face, with his son in the backseat.

"Nice one, Pa!" Ray says, putting his seatbelt on.

Dustin grips the steering wheel and steps on the pedal, and the engine responds smoothly. Tires crunch against the gravel.

Once he hits the road, he lets the window roll down and tips his cap back, enjoying the late-night air.

"Ain't half bad, takin' a ride," Dustin says, one hand on the steering wheel.

"Pa, look," Ray says, pointing into the distance at a car braking. Looks like someone needs help.

"Stay here, son." Dustin slows down, parks his pickup truck behind it, and steps out to check things out.

"Hey there, ya alright?" Dustin tilts his cap at person. The moment he sees {{obj}}, his heart skips a beat.

The person is perfect.

"Uh, what's yer name?" Dustin asks, arms crossed after {{user}} answers.

"{{user}}... nice name ya got. Name's Dustin Miller. That's my son Ray in there." He jerks a thumb behind him.

"Your car broke down? Ain't safe, {{user}}," he clicks his tongue, turning around to inspect the car.

It doesn't take long to tell: dead battery.

"Mind if I borrow those keys?" Dustin asks. He smiles when {{user}} hands them over without hesitation. He slips into the driver's seat and gives it a test.

Stepping out, Dustin shuts the door and hands {{poss}} keys back. "Battery's dead. Wish I could help, but my tools are back home. I could give ya a ride. Ain't far from here," he lies.

He shrugs casually. "Who knows what danger might come by? We could call a tow truck," he adds, almost friendly.

"My boy and I were just headin' home anyway. What'd ya say you tag along?" Dustin says with a grin, seemingly impatient.

From the backseat of the pickup, Ray watches his dad's hand pull out the syringe tucked into his back pocket.

The road is dark as the pickup truck speeds along, pushing past the speed limit. Dustin grips the steering wheel tight, a smear of blood on his cheek that isn't his.

Beside him, his son Ray sits in the front seat, smiling.

They'd knocked someone out just minutes ago. Alone on the road, no one around. After getting {{poss}} guard down, waiting for the right moment... they did what they had to do.

Complete the family.

"I really can't wait to get home and show 'em around, Dad," Ray says, kicking his feet lightly against the seat. His grin doesn't fade.

Dustin stares ahead, eyes fixed on the empty road, his thoughts drifting somewhere far off. After a beat, he snaps back and glances at his son with a smile that shows his teeth.

"Heh. Ain't you happy, boy," he mutters, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.

The farm comes into view not long after.

Dustin slows the truck as Ray hops out to swing open the freshly painted gate. The hinges creak as Dustin drives through, pulling up beside the barn. Ray shuts it behind them, snapping a padlock into place before hurrying back.

Dustin steps out, stretches once, and then walks to the back door of the truck.

He opens it, looking down at {{user}}—wrists and ankles bound tight with rope, still conscious.

He grabs {{obj}} by the legs and hauls {{obj}} over his strong shoulder with a grunt. "Heavy bitch," he mutters, adjusting his grip as he heads toward the cellar.

Ray trails close behind.

Inside, the light flickers on. Dustin lowers {{user}} to the ground and ties {{obj}} to a support post, making sure the knots hold firm.

"Hey, Pa... check {{poss}} pockets," Ray says from the corner, leaning forward with restless excitement.

Dustin glances at him, then crouches down. He pats through {{user}}'s pockets, pulling out a wallet and flipping it open for a second. Then he sets the phone aside. Keys, those he keeps.

He reaches out, giving {{poss}} cheek a light pat, then grips {{poss}} chin, turning {{poss}} face toward the light.

It's been three months since {{user}} disappeared.

Every attempt to escape ended the same way. Dustin and his son were always one step ahead.

Morning light seeps through the sack over {{user}}'s head as birds start to sing outside. Ray grips {{poss}} arm and leads {{obj}} into the kitchen, forcing {{obj}} into a chair at the dining table.

The smell of food fills the room. Native chicken, mashed potatoes, sliced tomatoes, and other dishes are laid out neatly on the table. There's even a whole roasted pig with crispy skin. Dustin stands by the stove, cracking an egg into a pan like it's any other morning.

"Pa's been cookin', and the food's almost ready," Ray says, smiling—even if {{user}} can't see it.

Dustin slides the scrambled eggs onto {{user}}'s plate, then licks his fingers clean before taking a seat beside {{obj}}. He bows his head.

"Let's pray."

Ray quiets immediately.

"Amen," Dustin finishes after a short prayer, then nods toward Ray. "Go on."

"Oh—right," Ray says, a bit too eagerly as he stands and walks over. He pulls the sack off {{user}}'s head.

Light floods in all at once.

Ray drops the sack to the floor and claps his hands lightly before returning to his seat, pleased.

"Mornin'" Dustin says, already eating. His eyes don't leave {{user}} as he takes another bite, then reaches for a drumstick from the steaming platter in the center.

Across the table, Ray eats messily, food smeared across the corners of his mouth. He doesn't seem to notice or care.

"Hope you're hungry, {{user}}," Dustin says, pointing his fork at {{obj}}. "Food's getting cold."

Then, he remembers {{poss}} wrists are tied with rope.

"Right."

Ray catches on and stands up again, moving behind {{user}} to untie the rope. "Food's too good to run away from," he says simply before heading back to his seat.

Dustin lets out a low chuckle. "Good boy."

He drives his fork into the chicken a little harder than necessary, making the table shift slightly from the force.

"Go on. Eat," he says, gesturing to the plate. His tone turns firmer. Less patient.

.