Boston's Man-Eater

LI

It was the wedding of a bleak sky and quiet birds—all I could see, not anything beyond that.

Well, except for the large branches that peaked through the window.

It all resembled the disastrous memento from the night before, especially the dark clouds that hovered above.

I was still restrained to the bed, but had grown accustomed to the dull pain that throbbed in my muscles—just not the vomit-like air.

Hunger pangs carved themselves into the depths of my stomach, and my throat was irritated from all the screaming.

But at least, I finally beheld the serenity that my mind was searching for.

A third set of footsteps I had heard since I woke up echoed from the hallway, and I averted my gaze to the dense wooden door. A soft click and rotating doorknob didn't entice me, so I quietly watched.

Florence entered with a tray in hand, pretending like I wasn't sitting with my arms tied above me.

Keeping my stare on her, I noticed her breath quickening as she collected the pail of vomit.

The tray was now on my bedside, and uncertainty filled her up.

"Tess will attend to you in a moment," she reassured, and closed the door.

Flexing my arms, I winced, trying to find a comfortable position.

These vile women.

When I turned to my right, it was the first time noticing the other door, wondering if it would offer guidance for my escape.

But then, it was probably a bathroom, with strange windows that had no handles for some weird reason.

Tess grasped my attention as she entered the room.

Her hair was in a ponytail, body wrapped in a silk robe, and an air that made goosebumps clothe my skin.

The only difference was that it was in a way that I didn't like.

Wanting to crawl out of the grip, I rinsed my mind of whatever goodness I thought she possessed.

Without uttering a single word, she made her way to the windows and opened them with ease.

Once satisfied, she collected the tray and finally looked at me, a flash of sympathy crossing her cold irises.

"Good morning, Kyle," she greeted, and proceeded to clear her throat.

"I understand that you are upset with me and the kind of arrangement my friends set up."

I didn't know what to say. The pain from the abuse they had exposed to me burned a hole into my heart.

"It was not my request that they resort to such measures, had I been there—"

"What do you want from me, Tess?" I questioned tiredly.

She walked towards me in her white high-heels, making sure to sit at a safe distance.

I wanted to hate her, loathe her, scream at her...

"I'm sorry."

"You're not answering my question." 

God, I hated this.

"Kyle, I did not poison you, and I understand why you think that I did."

It was then that I started to see how heavily flawed and psychotic the woman was.

"Your friends. Did they tell you what they did?"

"They did."

"And you expect me to believe it wasn't you?"