“I’ve prepared breakfast for us and there’s some fresh fruit on the table. Do you like eggs?” He motioned to the crackling pan in front of him. “I enjoy mine over easy,” he grinned, “at least I think I do, it’s been so long since I’ve had an appetite for much of anything.”
The sight before me was utterly surreal. I had long since abandoned my position as housekeeper and the kitchen bore signs of neglect. Broken glasses and dishes lined the countertops and various stains decorated the cupboards and the grey tiled floor. Ruddy handprints glinted off the steel refrigerator. There was blood on the French doors, on the stove, and on the bowl of fruit Edward had prepared. The sun highlighted billions of dust particles as it climbed through the east window.
Never had I seen Edward so dishevelle
