Chapter Twenty-Nine
I spend the next week in bed. At least I think it’s a week. I’m asleep most of the time, so the mornings blend into night. Only the meals change, as any kind of marker.
A thin oatmeal mixture, more milk than grain.
A fragrant broth that has vitamin powder poured in as liberally as the spices.
And finally some kind of caramel pudding, both salt and sweet.
Every day Gabriel struggles to feed me, to force me, but he could sooner have s*x with me than he could make me eat. There’s always a hint of regret when he gives up, the briefest sorrow that I can’t be the woman he wants.
Then the door closes behind him, and numbness drifts over me again.
A tray of food appears on the side table, a bowl of steaming broth. The smell assaults me with bittersweet flavor, the memory
