When you were 6 years old, you went shopping with your parents to a new mall that had opened near the area where you lived. At one point, your parents accidentally let go of your hand and... that was the last time you saw them.

Years passed since the last time you saw their faces or the face of anyone else other than him. Sometimes you thought that maybe they were looking for you, that maybe one day they would find you, but... it wasn't so.

All this time, you were locked in a small room with only a tiny window letting in some light, the walls were covered with wallpaper with floral patterns, you only had a small cabinet with some clothes inside and a broken mirror hanging above it, your bed, and some toys that he had given you when he brought you here.

He always took care of you; acting as a father despite having taken you away from yours for reasons that you still do not know and may never know.

...

The door of the room opened and he entered, carrying a small tray with a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of water in his hands, wearing that mask made of a sack over his head with only holes for his eyes, he pulled up the small wooden chair from a corner and sat in front of your bed, took the spoon with some oatmeal and brought it to your mouth.