What had happened to Mya? Aaron was concerned with her sudden change. It was strange... it almost seemed like she was hiding something.

"I was looking for you everywhere, but I couldn't find you. I mean, where were you?"

Frantically, Mya looked down, worry spreading across her entire face. He face was still colorless as a blank sheet of paper. She stood there for a few moments, silence swallowing the room, before turning away.

"What do you mean? I was here in my bed the whole time."

She was a terrible liar. Aaron could tell straight away that she wasn't telling the truth. It was obvious. She never acted this way. If she really wanted to hide where she'd been, couldn't she have tried harder?

The only thing that concerned Aaron was that she really did look scared. Very scared in fact, which was unusual for her. She was never afraid of him finding out when she pulled pranks on him. In fact, she thought it quite funny to see Aaron's reaction. So why did she act as if she was hiding something important this time?

Aaron had no chance to ask her about it though, because Mya walked right out of the room. Aaron huffed and rolled his eyes. She was fooling him as she always did. She was solving this problem like how she solved every problem in her life, by simply walking away.

Aaron trudged after her, following her to breakfast down at the kitchen.

***

Aaron plopped down at his seat next to Mya. He beamed at the steaming plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. They smelled salty and delicious and he couldn't wait to take a bite.

It was Sunday and Father had made scrambled eggs as he usually did on Sundays. It wasn't really anything special, but they always tasted good. Father's cooking was always good, but Mom's cooking had been the best.

As soon as thoughts of his mother surfaced in Aaron's head, he crammed a bite of scrambled eggs into his mouth in attempts to distract himself from those thoughts.

He didn't like to think about mom. No one did. Not after the accident one year ago.

Aaron felt tears spring to his eyes as Mom's bright, rosy, pale face came into his mind. He would never forget her gorgeous smile, the way the house came alive with wonderful scents as she began to cook dinner every night. The way some light would return to Father's face every time she gave him a smile.

But she was gone. Those things would never happen again.

Aaron wished he could throw those memories away so he didn't have to remember her, remember how she'd kiss him on the head and he'd grunt and pretend to be angry but secretly like it.

But those memories would always live within him, no matter how hard he tried to push them away.

Beside him, Mya was already finishing her scrambled eggs. In front of him, Father sat in a small wooden chair, also almost already done with his breakfast.

So it would be another uncomfortably silent breakfast again. Still, no one wanted to talk. No one wanted to face the silence. Except for Aaron.

Carefully, Aaron's mind returned to his dreams, the feet, and the drilling, Was now the time to ask Father about it? Aaron wanted to ask him, but he was afraid again. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just ask Father?

Aaron looked across the table at his father, whose eyes never left his plate.

Because then... what would happen to him? What if there was someone down in the basement? What then?

Aaron had no idea what to do. Couldn't he just try to ask him, really quick? Everything would probably be fine anyway. Couldn't he just try?

"What have you been doing in the basement?" Aaron blurted out quickly.

Instantly, he regretted saying anything. The entire room went into a whole other level of uncomfortable. Everyone stopped eating, even Mya, who had her last bite-raised to her mouth. Both of their eyes bore into him. The whole room became so quiet, it was as if time had paused.

Aaron glanced at his father in front of him, who's expression held many emotions, too many to make it readable. He just sat there in his chair, menacingly quiet as he stared at Aaron. Although Aaron didn't pay as much attention to her, Mya was doing the same, face turning white.

After an incredibly long period of silence, Mr.Peterson shakily set his fork back down on the table, which he'd had previously raised to his mouth.
His eyes continued to lock with his son's, gleaming with sadness, anger, but most presently, fear. It glowed like wildfire in his eyes, spreading throughout his body, down his bones. For a moment, Aaron thought he saw his Father shake, his mustache quiver.

Then, it was gone as he set his jaw tight, eyes flaring with sudden anger.

"Work." He answered, stopping staring at Aaron and finishing his last bite of eggs. Slowly, Mya did the same, yet she kept a firm gaze on her father.

Their behavior was... strange. Aaron noticed. It was very suspicious. Aaron still felt like questioning his father further. 'Work' wasn't much of an answer at all. Aaron already knew that Father was working in the basement.

Aaron gave his father a questioning glance. Would he be able to get away with asking another question like that? Or would that be going overboard? Perhaps he should wait until later to ask him. And yet...

"What kind of work?" He blurted out once again. The room fell silent once again, but it was a different kind of silence. It was an angry, tense silence that made the room feel hot and stuffy.

Mr.Peterson's face grew tight as his mouth became a thick, straight line.

Besides Aaron, Mya's face has long lost its rosiness. It was now pale, as white as a bone. She still stared wide-eyed at Father. She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

It was clear that she desperately wanted to leave breakfast. But why? Didn't she want to know what Father was doing in the basement?

Or did she already know?