61: Sick
Luke came to me a couple hours after the second time I had thrown up that day. He had a bag of salty crackers in his hands. I shook my head in preparation to fight the food off.
"I'm not going to make you eat right now." He told me. "But you do need to drink some water. Fluids will help." He set the crackers on the bedside table and handed me a water glass that had been concealed by his other hand. I took a small sip, trying to ignore how thirsty I was because I didn't want to load my stomach up just to hurl again.
"Thank you." I murmured. Luke nodded.
"I'm not going to let you use this as an excuse never to eat food again." He informed me. I glared at him questioningly.
"You really are sick." He assured me. "That wasn't the food's fault. You're just tired." I nodded. I think Luke said something else but I was already asleep again.
A week later I was back on my feet. Luke and I were working through the whole food thing again. As in, he was working on it and I was sitting on the couch trying my best to ignore him and focus on the TV.
"Madeline, if you don't look at me right now, I will turn the TV off."
"The TV isn't going to stop me from ignoring you." I whined, not moving my gaze, not in the mood for this. Luke groaned.
"Just take a bite of the sandwich and I'll leave you alone for fifteen minutes."
"Twenty." I barked.
"Deal." I stole the PB&J from him, took a large bite for his sake, and handed it back to him. "You have twenty minutes." He threatened, getting up to grab something from the kitchen.
YOU ARE READING
Stockholm Syndrome
General FictionI didn't want to. I wouldn't. I won't. But suddenly I was doing it. I didn't even register my feet hitting the fourteen steps it took to get up the stairs. My brain ignored the ninth step and how creaky and loud it was. And then I was there. Finding...
