The Family Origin

Chapter Thirty-Six: MAISIE POV

 When Miles came back inside, my brain was foggy with exhaustion. I remembered the bed dipping, him wrapping his arms around my waist, and kissing the back of my head before I fell back asleep.

Neither Miles nor Joseph said anything about what had happened. The day moved on like there had not been a murder last night. The kitchen floor and cabinet were no longer coated in blood, but the smell of bleach lingered in the air.

I was unable to eat my dinner, so I pushed my food around the plate with my fork. My stomach was in a tight knot as I stared at the kitchen floor. Three bloody bodies had been on that floor in just a couple of months. Four bloody bodies, if I included how Miles attacked Silas when he threatened me in the middle of the night. Each time I glanced at Miles, he was watching me intensely. He leaned forward as he shoved the food into his mouth, but his eyes never left me. It was as if his stare was burning holes into my skin. Joseph was the first one to break the silence.

"Maisie," he said. "You need to eat."

"I am not very hungry," I said.

"What's wrong?" Miles asked. His voice was sharp like he was fighting away panic. "Are you sick?"

I shook my head as I continued to drag my fork through the mashed potatoes. A hand reached forward and grabbed my wrist to stop me from playing with my food. The hand was too small to be Miles and coming from the wrong side of the table. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look up at Joseph. There were vague memories of him coming into the bedroom last night. I could not remember any of what we had said to each other, but I remembered him kneeling in front of me. The most vivid part of the memory was how he kissed my temple before I fell asleep. Did Miles know he came into the room while I was asleep? Why was Joseph even in our room so late?

"Maisie, you cannot be starving yourself," Joseph said. "You need to keep yourself healthy for you and Briar."

"I am not starving myself," I said. "I just don't have much of an appetite."

Joseph's hold tightened on my wrist. Why was he not pulling away? His calloused hand was hot on my skin, and I focused on my breathing to push away the increasing nausea. His touch plus last night's memories almost pushed me over the edge.

"We cannot afford to waste any food," Joseph said. "You have not acted like this in a long time."

Joseph did not need to ask the question. He knew exactly why I was not eating. I moved to pull my arm away, but Joseph did not let go. I opened my eyes; however, I could not look at Joseph. Across the table, Miles was watching us. His intense stare was focused on Joseph's hand on my wrist. My breath was shaky as I tried my best not to vomit.

I was never able to read Miles's mind. Would he hurt Joseph? Was his father touching me too much for him to handle? Miles wanted to protect his family so he would surely not harm his father; however, after watching him effortlessly slice Vincent's throat, I had no idea what Miles would do to keep me and Briar safe from harm.

"I do not want to waste food," I said. "Either you or Miles can have my dinner."

"Maisie," Joseph said. "I know you're upset, but that is no excuse not to eat."

"I'll be sick if I eat."

My voice was soft, and I doubted either of them heard me until Miles moved. He reached across the table and grabbed my plate. He scooped my portion of potatoes, vegetables, and chicken onto his plate. Joseph sighed before letting go of my wrist. I pulled my arm away and held my hands under the table so that he could not hold me again. Miles shoveled the food into his mouth as he stared at me. Joseph glared at Miles, who appeared unaffected by the cold look.