i hate this house.
He watched her wonder around the kitchen before heading up the stairs, a blank look in her eyes. She then huffed down the stairs, an annoyed look in her eyes. She then headed outside but stopped mid-way on the porch only to realise that it was heavily pouring, no weather for some outside pondering.
Turning around, her eyes blazed with anger.
With another annoyed huff, she scowled and headed back to the living room where the two men were sat, watching her every move and not the British chef on the TV teaching them to cook smoked salmon.
She was vexed.
"Should I get you something to drink?" The raven haired man asked her, already getting up to head to the kitchen for her even though he already knew that she wouldn't answer.
Her scowl grew larger in size as she crossed her arms over her chest and stared holes into the adjacent wall behind his head.
He took that as a no but got her some orange juice anyway.
After having lived with her in this state, he knew that she would not accept the glass from him so eagerly and so instead of handing it to her, he placed it down on the coaster on the coffee table knowing that she would drink it later if she felt like it.
That was the only source of freedom that she had left.
Being able to decide when to eat, what to eat and how much to eat. That was all that she was deemed enough to decide for herself. Everything else, he was in charge.
Him and his little friend.
For some reason, he was hanging around even though lunch had finished and been cleaned up two hours ago. Normally, he would have left by now to head back to the office, but today it seemed like he had all the time in the world the way that he was sat on the couch wringing his fingers together, almost as if he was in deep thought.
Sighing in frustration, she picked up the glass of orange juice and headed upstairs for an afternoon nap.
She hadn't taken an afternoon nap since...
She couldn't remember.
All she could remember was him.