"You know I can't let you go, right?" The man asked, voice gentler than I was expecting it to be. I looked up and he was staring right at me, eyes uncharacteristically kind.
I nod slowly, whispering, "Go ahead."
~~~
Ava Williams is just trying to l...
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My elbows were still throbbing when I woke up the next morning. It wasn't like I meant to eavesdrop on their private conversation. At least I didn't mean to get caught, and Jaime's door wasn't all the way shut.
I was confused last night when Jaime didn't show up to escort me to dinner. Instead, Cole knocked on my door at six o'clock. His seat was vacant along with Izaha's and half the table. There was no small talk or cheerful faces either. Something had happened and I had bet that no one would tell me what that was.
I was about to curl up in my armchair in the library after dinner when I heard voices shouting. My curiosity got the best of me and I followed the voices. Imagine my surprise when the voices led me straight to the storage room in the kitchen. I recognized Jaime's voice among the others as I stood outside the door and when I finally opened the door, it wasn't a room filled with cardboard boxes or totes, but a hallway with a cracked door at the end, light spilling out onto the carpet. I had only decided to eavesdrop because I wanted to know why Jaime and Izaha weren't at dinner even though it's apparently a big deal around here. However, what I did hear about someone attacking didn't make much sense anyway.
I rubbed my elbows, trying to soothe the carpet burn. After changing into a fresh set of clothes, ones that wouldn't rub my elbows all day, my stomach grumbled, leading me downstairs to the kitchen.
Alma caught me on the stairs, asking if I wanted breakfast which I eagerly agreed to, and I followed her into the kitchen.
Being in the kitchen always brought me a sense of comfort and reminded me of home. When I was younger, my parents cooked dinner every night together. Sometimes I helped, but mostly I would sit at the table doing my schoolwork and watch them both as they cooked. They acted as one, handing the other items they never asked for but needed and never saying much unless it was Dad cracking a joke that wasn't funny but made Mom laugh anyway. So when I walked into the grand kitchen, which was much nicer than any kitchen I have ever been in, I let out a sigh of contentment.
Alma gave me the grand tour of the kitchen, opening each cabinet and explaining what was where. It took me a few tries, opening cabinets at random, before I handed her a pan that she asked for. She showed me how to make a breakfast quiche and while it was baking we sliced some fresh fruit. She told me that most people would drift in throughout the morning, coming in to eat breakfast with a quick "thank you" before heading out for the day.
"Do you make everyone's breakfast?" I asked, cutting the rind off a watermelon.
"Usually. Although they know that if I'm not around, they have to fend for themselves." She grabbed a large bowl of strawberries from the refrigerator and started washing them off.
"What about lunch?"
"There's no one around for lunch most of the time. They're all out doing..." She trailed off softly, almost as if she was hoping I wouldn't notice so I stopped cutting the watermelon and turned to face her.
