She can't quite remember if she had friends at this age: she must have, she reasons, looking back at it from time to time. All little girls must have friends because the videos of the echonet give her statistical averages, whether they're real or not: about how little girls are supposed to have friends. So she must have had at least one, then. Just... can't be certain.
But what she can be certain of is that Jack has rules about his daughter having friends. About who she can and can't talk too. About what she can and can't say and the first, and foremost rule remained the same. There's no one more important than Daddy, is there, sweetie?
And if he catches someone, anyone - here - after what has just happened?
"There's a cupboard, upstairs. H-He never looks in there." It's as much as she gets out when she hears the door finally creak open. No time, no time to hide. Maybe she can just make him think she's - out - how long, until he sees the body. She takes him by that hold still and drags them under the dining table in the kitchen. Desperately yanking them together in a small, huddled ball to hide where the tablecloth will cover them.
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But what she can be certain of is that Jack has rules about his daughter having friends. About who she can and can't talk too. About what she can and can't say and the first, and foremost rule remained the same. There's no one more important than Daddy, is there, sweetie?
And if he catches someone, anyone - here - after what has just happened?
"There's a cupboard, upstairs. H-He never looks in there." It's as much as she gets out when she hears the door finally creak open. No time, no time to hide. Maybe she can just make him think she's - out - how long, until he sees the body. She takes him by that hold still and drags them under the dining table in the kitchen. Desperately yanking them together in a small, huddled ball to hide where the tablecloth will cover them.