Taken Away

Red

"I have learned now that, while those who speak about ones miseries usually hurt. Those who keep silence hurt more." - C.S Lewis

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Dropping to my knees I shook Jackson violently, trying to get a response from him.

"Jackson?" I squeaked. 

"I'm..." Jackson trailed off, his voice sounding distant.

I shook him again "What Jackson? You're what, Jackson?!"

"I'm....so...." 

"You're so what?!" I shouted frantically. 

"Hungry," he finished.

I stared at him dumbfounded as I watched a large grin spread across his face. 

"W-What?" I stuttered "you're okay?!"

Jackson turned onto his back and started to laugh hysterically, making his whole body shake. A wave of anger washed over me as I felt my face heat up.

"You did all that for a joke?!" I yelled "I thought you had died! What is the red stuff then?!"

Jackson stood up, still laughing and swiped his finger across his cheek where some of the red liquid still remained and whiped it across is tongue. 

"Corn syrup," he smirked.

Scowling up at Jackson, I hit him across the arm.

"Hey,hey!" he protested "Just a little joke sis. I'm sorry," 

"Fine," I huffed "but clean all that up off the floor while I put the dinner out since you're so hungry."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you well, Azzie," Jackson said, still smiling.

I rolled my eyes and turned to the plates sitting on the counter tops and served out three portions of spaghetti bolognese. Lifting up Mollie and Jackson's plates, I brought them over to the table.

"Dinner's ready!" I sang.

Jackson was instantly at the dinner table wolfing down the meal.

"So good," Jackson moaned.

"Glad you like it," I laughed just as Mollie skipped into the kitchen.

"Nice of you to join us, Molls," I said sarcastically.

Mollie gave me a sheepish smile before sitting at her place at our small dinner table.

"I have to give to you, Brenda doesn't cook half as well as you do," Jackson said after a few moments of silence.

"Aw thank you Jackson, that's really sweet of you," I replied, grinning across the table at him.

After swallowing a couple of mouthfuls I started to feel a building pressure in my stomach, telling me I was full. I stared at my plate in astonishment, wondering how I got full so quickly.

Setting my knife and fork onto the plate, I got up from the table and made my way over to the trash, scraping my mostly filled plate into it.

"Is that all you're eating?" Jackson said, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yes," I told Jackson "I'm full to the brim,"

"What happened to your "eat like a horse" tendancies?" he asked sounding concerned.