"I'm paid to collect dishes and wash dishes. And if someone asks for food, I bring them food." Gabe shrugs. He still feels as though he doesn't deserve to enjoy any kind of freedom, especially in this place. Every day, he knows he should be calling home and repenting to his parents, confessing the mistake he made and begging them for their forgiveness.

Every day, he knows with growing certainty that if they know, then there will be one less Fletcher child.

It doesn't matter if he turns on his phone to call them. He can't go back. Can't go home.

The melancholy is hard to keep out of his expression.

"I hope you liked your fries."