[𝐌𝐈𝐓 • 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝟏] He managed to make a sane eighteen-year-old INSANE.
~
He was fascinated by her. And he wanted to make her fascinated about him, so he played a game with her. Messed with her mind in ways he shouldn't have. The catch: he was th...
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author's note —the symptoms of schizophrenia represented in this chapter are probably not as accurate as i would have liked. i did do research for it and tried my best with what i found.
┌────────────┐ REECE LITTLE └────────────┘
PAINKILLERS ▬▬▬▬ NINE DAYS LATER
PULLING OUT the large glass casserole dish from the oven, the hot steam rising up into Reece's face, making him squeeze his eyes shut so they wouldn't burn and melt out of his skull. Setting it on the stove top he takes a mitten off one of his hands to grab the egg flip, starting to cut the homemade lasagna into big enough portions for him and Maddie. When plated on two plates, he opens the oven and puts the lasagna back into it to cool it down so he can place it in the fridge for leftovers during the week.
Closing the oven he grabbed the plates and walked them out to the dining table behind the TV and couch area. Maddie was sitting in her chair, wrists resting on the edge of the table, playing with her fingers as she slouched back into the backrest. As Reece stared at her longer, walking closer and closer, he sensed something wrong about her. She looked a little off and when she noticed him walking over, she turned her head to him and he could see in the darkness of her cognac eyes that something was bothering her. The small glint of wonder was gone from her eyes, replaced with burning flower gardens, smoke and ashes spinning and twirling in her irises in a rush of emotions.
"Here you go," he said, placing her plate down in front of her, between the knife and fork already set up. He took a glance at her almost empty glass. "Would you like a refill of your drink?" he asked as he walked around her and placed his plate down, but didn't sit down just yet as he waited for her to answer. Looking at her, she leaned forward in her seat, one hand in her lap as the other held the fork, playing around with the delicious and smooth cheese on top of the lasagna. She didn't look interested, he furrowed his brows down at her.
When she didn't say anything, he chose to just fill it up for her as he grabbed her glass and walked to the kitchen to fill it back up with chocolate milk. When he returned, he placed her glass down and went to sit in his seat at the end of the long table, Maddie adjacent to him.
"Is there something bothering you, flower?"
He wasn't sure what answer he was expecting her to say, if he could make this simpler and read her mind, he would. As he sat there patiently for her to part her lips and speak, he watched her continue to stare at her food, still stabbing the points of the fork into the cheese sauce on top. She looked so small, shoulders pulled in, knees probably together under the table. But the longer she stayed quiet in her thoughts, the more annoyed she became just sitting there and letting her thoughts race, he could tell from the slight snarl to her lips and the death glare she was giving the lasagna, she was boiling inside. Until she exploded.
