The kitchen was dark as the night had fallen over the outskirts of Seattle like a heavy blanket. A five-year old Sam Puckett sat alone at the chipped, wooden table as she watched the shadows reach out from underneath the refrigerator and hug the walls tightly. Her stomach rumbled and moaned as she waited, tracing patterns on the stained wood with her fingers. She heard the front door slam and heavy, tired footsteps echoed off the walls as Pam Puckett dragged herself into the kitchen, throwing her keys on the ripped sofa.

"Hello Sam." She said in a hollow voice with an equal smile to go with it.

"Hi mommy!" Sam chirped, taking her place back at the table. Pan shuffled over to the fridge and pulled out a large bowl filled with chicken broth and veggies. She stuck in the microwave and leaned heavily against the sink.

"Was work hard?" Sam asked, worried for her exhausted mother.

"Oh not at all. I'm just tired from chasing all the puppies." Pam lied. She told Sam that she worked on a puppy farm downtown when she truthfully worked in a dumpy office building near the rough part of Seattle.

"Can I come to work with you someday?" Sam asked hopefully, already knowing the answer.

"Maybe some other time." Pam replied, pulling the steaming hot soup out of the microwave. She poured some in a chipped bowl and placed it in front of Sam who was drooling in delight. She immediately shoveled a spoonful in her mouth and savored the sweet taste of the broth flowing over her tongue. Pam filled another bowl for herself and stood against the sink. Suddenly, they heard a crash coming from the back bedroom of the house. A tall man wearing boxers and a yellowed tank top came stomping angrily into the kitchen.

"H-Hi dad." Sam stuttered. Mr. Puckett ignored her and immediately looked at his wife with a dirty look.

"You're late." He growled.

"Yes Pete, I was working overtime so Sam can buy that stuffed animal she wanted." Pam said, taking a bite of her soup.

"I'm hungry." He said, crossing his arms menacingly.

"I made soup." Pam said blandly. Pete slapped the bowl out of Pam's hands, sending at flying against the wall where it shattered. He whipped his hand back and struck Pam across the face. She stumbled and fell to floor while Sam watched in horror.

"I guess I'm stuck eating this garbage!" He roared. He eyes snapped to Sam who had her spoon full of soup poised in front of her mouth. Pete walked over to the table and slammed his meaty hands on the wood, knocking over Sam's glass of water.

"Gimme your soup." He commanded.

"No it's mine!" Sam cried, "I'm hungry!" She clutched the bowl and tried to run from the table. Pete caught her shirt collar and yanked her back. Sam gagged and sputtered as her shirt choked her. She still refused to release her grip on the bowl.

"Gimme the bowl or I'll pop your little runt head off." Pete barked. Sam felt the blood rushing to her face as the oxygen left her brain. She slowly set the bowl on the counter and struggled to breathe. Pete threw her roughly to the ground and took her seat. Sam hit the ground and gasped for air. She looked up at her father who was scarfing down her soup.

"You're a monster!" she screamed, her throat scorching with pain. Pete laughed gruffly and continued to eat the soup. Sam sat on the tile in horror and watched her monster of a parent eat her soup. When he finished he tossed the empty bowl to Sam and told her to finish up the scraps. He laughed and stalked off to watch television while Sam stared at the empty bowl, stomach rumbling and tears streaming down her face.


"So Sam," Spencer asked in an important voice, "Did a…monster…ever steal your soup…?"

"…"


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