The Hand That Feeds You

Chapter 9

This was almost 6000 words! Inspiration has struck apparently.

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• Grayson •

I stare at the bruise in the mirror. The purpling skin covers the entirety of my upper right arm. It hasn't been healing properly. Probably because the second my dad sees me gaining mobility, he drags me into a private room to make it hurt again. Every bit of my energy goes into healing it before school tomorrow. I can't go to school with my arm in pain whenever I touch it. The halls would be a nightmare.

I sigh and tug on a long sleeve, grateful that it's at least cold outside, so it won't be weird if I'm wearing sleeves. The woolen shirt presses against the bruise, making me wince as I walk out of the bathroom. Lydia sits outside on my bed, giggling. She wears one of my hoodies, big enough that she looks like she's wearing a dress.

I smile at her and sit down next to her. She immediately tosses herself in my lap, cuddling into me. The pup had begged me to let her cuddle with me and watch a movie, saying that she was bored and desperately needed hugs. Obviously I obliged.

Lydia giggles as I lift her up and walk her over to the living room, tossing her onto the couch. She shrieks and squirms as I tickle her sides, smiling as she wriggles. I only stop once she gasps, I'm gonna pee!, releasing her from my clutches.

I laugh and sit up, grabbing the controller and letting her cuddle up to my side as she tries to discreetly tickle me. It doesn't work, and she huffs as she realizes that. "What do you want to watch, angel?"

She snatches the controller from my hand and looks up. "Uhh..." Kids' movies flash across the screen as she tries to decide what she wants to watch on Netflix. "I don't know."

"How about Home?"

"What's that?"

I reach for the controller and look up the kids' alien cartoon. "This one."

She smiles at Oh, the little purple alien. "Yes!"

Knowing Lydia, she picked it only because he was her favorite color. I play the movie and stand. "I'll go make some popcorn okay?"

It's been a while since I walked around the house worry-free. Not entirely, obviously, I had to fear breaking things or moving things too out of place. But worry-free in the sense that without my dad here, I don't walk around on eggshells. The thought of making popcorn doesn't terrify me as it might've if my dad wasn't in a meeting with the warriors of the pack. And Azrael. I wince, knowing Azrael was probably still pissed about what happened on Friday.

I crouch down to the cabinet and reach for one of the popcorn bags. It's already buttery, and I can already smell the salt on it. I put the bag into the microwave and set it to two minutes. With every pop, the smell grows stronger until my mouth waters. The microwave beeps after two minutes, the popcorn smell now flooding the kitchen. I take it out and open the bag. Steam lifts from its contents, kissing my face as it leaves. I grab a bowl and dump the popcorn into it, tossing away the bag before walking back to the living room just as Oh starts his introduction about Moving Day.

I sit down on the couch and hand Lydia the popcorn bowl. She delves into it immediately, watching the movie excitedly. All of the little aliens are some shade of purple and she loves that. I smile and reach for some popcorn, munching on the buttery pieces. It tastes delicious as always.

I watch the movie curiously. The last time I had seen it was when I was really young. Pa had taken me to the theater to see it when I was ten, after Annabelle had watched the trailer and begged him to take us both. Lydia was born two years afterwards. She's never watched the movie.