Taking a deep breath before opening the door and walking past them without even looking in their direction, I head straight to the laundry and dump my clothes in the washer. My eyes feel like sandpaper from crying, and I have a headache.
Ryland walks in behind me, leaning on the door frame. “Are you okay?”
‘What do you think?” I spit back at him. All this over visiting Lana. What’s next? “Where did he go?” I ask, as I put the laundry detergent in.
“For a walk,” Ryland says, pulling his packet of smokes from his pocket and offering me one.
“I can’t go outside,” I tell him, looking back at the washing machine screen and turning it on.
Ryland walks past me, opening the laundry door leading outside and sits on the step. “You just can’t go past the door,” he says, tapping the spot next to him.
I sit down, lean against the door behind him, and take one of his smokes. “Did you know he was going to compel me?” I ask, and Ryland shakes his head.
“No, I wouldn’t have agreed to that,” he says, as he hands me his lighter.
I light my smoke, and Ryland turns, leaning against the doorframe, facing me, but I look outside, unable to meet his gaze. “Can’t Orion compel me not to listen?” I ask him.
“It doesn’t work like that. Only the person who compelled you can break it,” Orion says from the door leading into the living room.
Great, I am screwed. I know he won’t lift it anytime soon; I know he will use it against me. We sit in silence while I finish my smoke. I get up and head upstairs just as I hear the front door open. I walk faster, not wanting him to call me back down, not wanting to see him. I close the door into the spare room, climb on the bed and pull the covers back. I am trying to sleep, and the house is so silent that I can’t hear them downstairs or the TV.
I fall asleep for a while until I am jostled awake by Thaddeus. “Why are you in here?”
“To get away from you,” I tell him, rolling back over, wanting to go back to sleep.
“Get up; dinner is ready,” Thaddeus says, and I am forced to haul myself out of bed and follow after him. Walking into the kitchen, Thaddeus points to the stool, and I sit down, resting my head on the counter. Orion puts some pasta dish in front of me, making me look up, the smell alone makes my belly rumble.
Thaddeus places a fork in my hand. “Eat,” he says, and Ryland and Orion sit on either side of me, eating their dinner. I pick at mine, not really hungry. When I am full, I place my fork down and go to get up when Thaddeus’ voice hits me again. “All of it.”
“I’m full,” I tell him.
“I said eat all of it.” My hand shakes as I am forced to pick up the fork. There is more on my plate than Ryland’s, and he eats more than us. There is no possible way to eat all this without being sick, and I already didn’t want to eat to begin with.
“Thaddeus, she can’t possibly eat that much. I can’t even finish mine,” Ryland tells him, but Thaddeus shakes his head, ignoring him and instead, watching me.
By the time I am halfway through it, I have started feeling sick. Literally forcing myself to chew. I have been sitting at the counter for over an hour, trying to force it down. I feel heavy; even chewing is becoming harder and harder, and I have to use my arm to keep my head upright as I lean on it.
“You’re going to make her sick. This isn’t punishment; this is torture. Enough already,” Orion says, and I can feel sweat run down the back of my neck. Who would have thought eating could cause this much discomfort?
“Fuck off, Orion, or I will make her eat what’s left in the pot as well,” he says, turning his glare on him.
I look at Orion, pleading with him not to add anything else. Orion walks past me, his hand touching my face, and I lean into the coolness his skin offers. I feel hot and bloated and on the verge of throwing up.
“Go, Orion. She won’t die,” Thaddeus spits at him, and I look up.
Orion looks like he is on the verge of saying something, when he presses his lips into a line, and I sigh, relieved that he holds his tongue. If he said anything, it would have just been worse for me.
Thaddeus sits there, watching, his arms folded across his chest, glaring at me. His anger has no end. How long is he going to make me suffer? It takes another half an hour for me to finish everything on my plate. I drop my fork, resting my head on the counter. The cool surface offers relief from how hot I feel. Thaddeus grabs my plate, and I almost cry when I see him walk over to the other counter, thinking he will put more on the plate, letting out a breath when I see him place the plate in the sink.
“Do you want a drink?” he asks, and I shake my head. I am thirsty, incredibly so, but I won’t drink anything after what happened earlier. I don’t want a repeat of it. “You can go then,” he says, and I get up, walking up the stairs, when I hear him call out. “Our room, Evelyn!”
I groan but walk into the room and lay on the bed, which is a mistake; as soon as I lay on my belly, I jump up, rushing toward the bathroom and throwing up into the toilet. When I am done, I quickly brush my teeth. I feel better now; my stomach isn’t so full, but I know I will be hungry again later.
Laying on the bed, I feel the bed dip. Warm hands touch me and pull me against them, and I know it is Ryland. I fall asleep easily after the overwhelming day I just had.