Chapter 4
But to my disappointment, the one who walked in wasn’t Alex at all.
It was a woman about my age, her hands full of shopping bags.
She dumped a bag of fruit into the fridge and snapped at me without the slightest courtesy.
“These are for my son. You and that useless brat of yours better not touch them, you hear me?”
Oh, I knew exactly who she was now.
Amelie Wood, Eloise’s sister–in–law. Divorced, living back at her parents‘ house with her boy, David Wood.
She spent her days shopping and lazing around, treating my sister like her personal maid.
She gave the kitchen a quick glance.
“Dinner better be ready. I’ve been out shopping all afternoon, I’m exhausted. Go dish me up a bowl.”
The moment I heard that, my eyes
lit
- up.
Another volunteer willing to try my cooking!
I rushed over, cheerfully serving her a steaming bowl of the same delicacies I had prepared earlier.
One look at the bowl, and Amelie’s face twisted with fury.
“Eloise! You dare serve me this dirty dish water?”
I was even angrier than she was.
With one sharp slap, I spun her clean around in place.
“Watch your mouth! Show some respect for my masterpiece!”
“You! you hit me!” she shrieked, her voice like a boiling kettle ready to burst, stomping her feet and swinging her arms as if to hit me back.
Too bad for her, she didn’t even get close.
I caught her wrist, twisted it with ease, and shoved her straight to the ground, face–first like a dog eating dirt.
Then I planted my foot on her back, yanked her long hair until her head bent painfully backward, and asked in a low, icy voice,
“Eat, or not?”
Her scalp was on the verge of splitting, tears pouring down her cheeks as she sobbed, “Alright! I do! I’ll eat…”
Only then did I release her, leisurely watching as she choked down each bite, gagging and crying at the same time. Her tears even dripped into the bowl.
Hiss. Extra salty now.
Just then, Susan suddenly crept out, who had been hiding in the bathroom.
She grabbed a wooden stool and swung it at me from behind.
“Go to hell, you crazy bitch!”
But years in the asylum had sharpened my instincts beyond normal.
I darted aside in a flash, easily snatching the stool from her hands.
Before either of them could react, I broke off one of the stool legs with a sharp chop of my palm, and in one smooth motion drove it straight toward Susan’s foot.
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“Ahhh!” Her scream was pure terror as the wooden leg stabbed into the floorboards, landing between her feet by mere inches.
She wet herself on the spot.
A “mistake“? Please. That was intentional.
I wasn’t planning on crippling anyone, at least not yet. Otherwise, that would be so boring, and who would be left to entertain me?
