Puppet {ManxMan}

CHAPTER 8

I knew Arthur wasn't mad at me when he brought in the tray of food. If he had been mad at me then he wouldn't have taken the time to make what he had. Some of what was on the tray surprised me, since I had no idea any of it was still around. Milk for instance. I hadn't had milk in years, but there was an ice cold glass sitting on the tray, along with sausage, pancakes, fresh cut fruit and a flower. I have no idea what purpose the flower had, but I didn't question it. Maybe Arthur was just being cute.

My body said I was hungry, starving even, my stomach was making weird noises and I was fidgeting in anticipation, but when Arthur set the tray down on the bed in front of me, suddenly my appetite fled from my throat and I swallowed, twisting my fingers around the bottom of my shirt, staring uneasily at the mouthwatering food.

It smelt heavenly, yet the thought of putting any of it in my mouth had my stomach churning in discomfort. Arthur must have noticed my apprehension, because he sat down on the side of the bed and started cutting off pieces of the pancake.

"You don't have to do that," I said, but he just smiled brightly at me.

"It's fine, you look uncomfortable."

My shoulders slumped and I looked off to the side, chewing on my bottom lip, "I'm fine."

"Can you eat on your own?"

"I'm not a child."

Arthur just laughed and set the utensils down, standing up and walking over to the counter located against the right wall, motioning towards Malachi, "Come sit down, I want to check your shoulder."

Malachi listened, sitting in the chair Arthur pointed to and waiting patiently. I stared down at the food, picking up the fork and staring at it before poking the fluffy pancakes. They were made perfectly, just how I used to like them, drowning in butter with honey drizzled over them and just the right amount of powdered sugar. I remember it used to be my favorite breakfast and my mother would wake up at five in the morning just to make sure she could perfect each one for me.

They probably tasted great. Arthur had always been a phenomenal cook since he was home alone with his siblings most of the time. He did all the cooking and cleaning usually while Ian and their father had the jobs. I carefully poked the fork into the smallest piece I could find and lifted it up, smelling it anxiously just in case they'd drugged it.

It wasn't paranoia, it had happened to me plenty of times before. Blu would drug the food he brought to me every time, especially when he wanted to play around with me for the first few years I was there and still had the strength to struggle and fight back. Because of how many times my food had been drugged I could usually smell it, but I didn't find anything off about the food here, so I cautiously began nibbling on it, lifting my eyes to look around the room.

There was a table in front of the bed where Cass was sitting cleaning his gun and talking about some mission he'd gone on and the information he'd come up with. The chair across from him was where Malachi was sitting, and Arthur was standing on his right, checking the wound in his shoulder with his face pinched in concentration, bottom lip between his teeth.

My eyes fell back to the plate, and I tested myself a bit by taking a little more of the food into my mouth, chewing it up a lot more than necessary before swallowing a little at a time. Just as I'd feared would happen, my throat started to close up and my stomach lurched, so I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and willed the food to stay down where it needed to be. If I threw up the food Arthur made me I would stab someone. In fact, I may stab someone regardless.

"Are you okay?"

I jumped from the sudden question, head snapping to the side where Kailas was sitting in the same chair from the previous night, a frown on his lips. I shook my head furiously before realizing what I was doing and instead nodding.