Warehouse

I've always been curious about what's inside the warehouse behind my grandmother's house.

Especially since my grandmother always forbids me from getting near it, I'm even more curious. Usually I just listen - my parents always argue to not cause any problems when I'm on vacation here, but this time is different.

I feel like there's something. Something bad, I don't know why, hidden in there. So that morning before breakfast, I sneak out of the house.

It's locked, of course. But the warehouse lock is old, you can see, some parts are already rusted. So I take a stone and hit it hard until the lock comes off.

Okay, open. I push the door and... I feel like I've done this before. And when the door opens...

Disappointing. There's nothing in there. I mean of course there are many things stored in there, but everything is normal. Just an old warehouse with equally old and mostly useless things. Like that table with no legs or that broken handle grass fork.

So I go back to the house, not completely satisfied, but there's no point in getting angry either.

In the living room, my grandmother has already prepared breakfast, my favorite steak. I sit down and eat it without thinking.

"Where did you go, dear?" asks my grandmother.

"The warehouse," I say.

"Again?" says my grandmother. "Not satisfied seeing it yesterday?"

Again? Yesterday?

I'm frozen, stop chewing the meat in my mouth.

I've heard that when you're in shock, you sometimes forget the events that shock you. Because that fact is too heavy for you, so that you don't go crazy, your head automatically erases it for you. Lost memory.

But that only happened yesterday, I remember now. I wanted to know what was in the old warehouse so I kept nagging my grandmother - she was washing a knife in the kitchen at the time - to open it. Because I nagged without stopping, my grandmother finally gave in. She gave me the key and followed me when I ran towards the warehouse.

I opened it.

What I found was different from what I saw today. Among the old things, there was a little girl inside. Tied up. Her mouth was gagged, crying without a voice and when I opened the door, her teary eyes looked at me.

Looking at her being scared makes me scared too.

"Hey, grandma?" I said. "Who is that ...?"

Do you know? Sometimes I think about it. My grandma isn't rich, but every time I come here she always serves me meat. How is that possible? Where does she get the money from?

Now I know.

"Your breakfast tomorrow," she replied.