Finally, she does just that, buttering her bread before stacking some cured meats on top and taking a hesitant bite.
But it doesn’t feel right.
It’s almost as if she’s turned into a robot.
A ghost of her former self.
What the hell is going on?
Is she disappointed in the food?
“You don’t like bread?”
“It’s fine,” she responds.
“What do you normally eat at home?” I ask. “I can get more fresh vegetables and fruits later.”
She shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does,” I say, looking her in the eyes. “To me, it does.”
Her eyes fixate on mine, like she’s trying to tell me something without using words.
She shoves a piece of sandwich into her mouth like it’s nobody’s business. “Why?”
“Because I care,” I say. “I’ve always cared.”
She rolls her eyes and chomps down on her sandwich.
“Hey,” I say, forcing her to look up. “I mean it.”
She snorts. “That’s rich coming from the dude who wants to keep me here as a pet.”
“You chose this, not me,” I say, clutching my knife so hard it pushes into my skin. “If it were up to me, I would’ve gone back to end what I started.”
“Oh, so you’re allowed to talk about her, but I’m not?” She raises a brow. “Double standards.”
“I’m not talking about anyone. I’m talking about the choice you made,” I reply.
“To save her,” she says.
“Commendable … but stupid,” I say.
Her face contorts. “Did you just call me stupid?”
Fuck.
Maybe I shouldn’t have used that word.
“I didn’t mean—”
She gets up from her seat and heads back to the bed, where she sits down and throws the blanket over her head.
“Hey …” I say, but she’s ignoring me.
“I’m not here,” she says.
I snort and shake my head, placing down my knife. Maybe I was too quick to say the fire had left her. I get up and go to her, lifting the blanket. She’s shoving the sandwich into her mouth like a little squirrel hides nuts, and seems surprised I caught her.