Cam brought another tray in the afternoon. I watched her set it down and leave without a word. The sandwich looked like something from a magazine, perfectly cut triangles with crisp lettuce peeking out the sides. My stomach clenched, a traitor. I turned away.
The window seat had become my world. Beyond the glass, trees swayed in the breeze, their branches reaching toward an iron fence I couldn't see but knew was there. Prison walls never needed to be visible to do their job.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass. When had I last eaten? Yesterday? The day before? Time blurred like watercolors left in the rain.
My body felt hollow, a paper lantern with the light going out. I knew I should eat. The logical part of my brain whispered that starvation wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't bring Mark back, wouldn't erase the betrayal. But logic had no place in grief.
Because eating meant accepting their care. Accepting their care meant forgiving their lies. I couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I tried to stand, thinking I might return to my room, but the library tilted violently. I grabbed the bookshelf, knuckles white against mahogany. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. I sank back into the window seat, breath coming in shallow gasps.
The house felt empty though I knew they were there. Shadows moving through rooms. Ghosts watching a ghost. Or maybe I was the only ghost, fading a little more with each refused meal.
My fingers trembled as I traced patterns on the glass. The trees outside blurred. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but the darkness at the edges remained, creeping inward like spilled ink.
I knew what was happening. My body was shutting down while my mind waged war against itself. Eat and live. Refuse and... what? Prove a point no one would remember?
I closed my eyes. The room spun behind my eyelids.
Footsteps approached the library, different from before. Not the hesitant tread I'd grown accustomed to, but something purposeful, determined. The floor seemed to vibrate with each step.
Ellie stood in the doorway, her silhouette sharp against the hall light. Her eyes scanned me, taking in what I already knew: hollow eyes, trembling hands, the untouched tray standing by like archaeological evidence of my refusal.
Something shifted in her face. The gentle caretaker vanished, replaced by something harder, more clinical. Her shoulders squared.
"Sabine. Downstairs. Now."
Three words. No question mark. No room for negotiation.
I opened my mouth to refuse, but my mind felt wrapped in cotton. The words wouldn't form. My body had nothing left to fuel defiance.
I tried to stand. The room tilted violently, bookshelves sliding sideways in my vision. My knees buckled.
Ellie moved faster than I could track, her hand catching my elbow. I felt her strength through the grip, steady and unwavering. For the first time in days, something solid existed in my spinning world.
I should have pulled away. Should have shrugged off her touch, maintained the wall between us.
I didn't.
Her fingers remained on my arm as the room slowly righted itself. A tether to reality when everything else seemed determined to slip away.
29
Sabine
Ellie's hand remained onmy arm as she guided me toward the library doorway. The hallway stretched before me like a desert highway, each step requiring more concentration than it should have. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else.
When we reached the stairs, I stared down at them, calculating. My ankle throbbed with a dull, persistent pain that radiated up my calf. It had been healing before all this, before the days of lying in bed refusing meals, refusing everything.
I took the first step and faltered on the landing, my fingers instinctively gripping the banister. The wood felt cool and solid under my palm.
"I've got you," Ellie said, her hand firm on my elbow. Her touch was professional but gentle, like everything about her.
I wanted to pull away, to tell her I didn't need help from any of them. The words formed in my mind but died before reaching my lips. My body had betrayed me, and pride was a luxury I couldn't afford.
I descended one step at a time, each movement carefully measured, my good foot finding purchase before I dared shift my weight. Ellie matched my pace without comment, without rushing me.
When we finally reached the bottom, I had to stop. The foyer tilted around me, the walls breathing in and out like they couldn't decide on their proper dimensions. I closed my eyes, willing the world to stabilize.
