Their Little Princess

Chapter Nine

MADDIE

When we get home, its about 4am, Elijah carries my bag again because if I have to lift even the smallest thing, I'm certain I'm gonna collapse.

But Elijah doesn't let me fall asleep once we get into the house, he leads me into the kitchen.

"Come on, Mads. You have to eat something. You barely ate your dinner, you need to eat something."

It's hard to believe that it was just yesterday when we went shopping and I cooked dinner. I'm exhausted, and I really don't feel like eating.

"I'm not hungry," I say softly.

He sighs, "I have to make you something, Maddie. You just had a ton of medication, that'll be dangerous on an empty stomach." I sit at the table while he puts on a pot for some soup. My phone buzzes, and I pull it out of my pocket, but the screen is so tattered, I can only see that it's from Jess. 

I set it down and yawn, trying not to fall asleep before the food is done because I feel bad that Elijah is cooking and I want to at least eat it.

"You have an appointment on Monday," Elijah says, pouring a small serving of soup into the bowl in front of me and sliding it over.

I look up at him, "But I thought I started school on Monday—"

"Maddie, your ribs are broken, you need—"

"They've been broken, Elijah, I'm fine. I've been to school with broken ribs before," I say, I realize I cut him off, but he doesn't call me out on it.

He doesn't seem to have been appeased by the rib comment, "Madison, Sandro told me not to negotiate with you on this. You're not starting school next week. We can work out a homeschool plan, maybe get a private tutor."

I finally look him in the eye, I know it's a risk, but I can't fathom being stuck alone in this house with no one my age any longer, not when most of them resemble Daniel's behaviors in their own ways, "Elijah," I say shakily, "Please."

He looks at my eyes for a bit before sighing in defeat, "I'll talk to Sandro about it if you finish your food."

I know he'll talk to Alessandro regardless, and that makes me happy. But my stomach drops when I realize he really expects me to eat this. He didn't give me much, he didn't expect me to eat much, and he was right, I don't want to eat any at all. My fingers tighten around my spoon.

And for his sake, I eat a little less than a spoonful. My stomach begins trying to lurch it back up before I even swallow it, but I push my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep my throat closed until the soup settles in my stomach.

I don't even realize he gets up until he comes back over with a glass of apple juice, "We stocked up on apple juice when we heard you'd be staying with us," He grins slightly.

I hesitate, my heart begins to race, old memories resurface, "Why don't you try it first?" I ask instantly. He looks at me curiously, "Do you want to tell me why you do that?" He asks gently. I shake my head, "I just want you to try it first."

He takes a sip from the cup before sliding it back towards me, "Good?" He asks as I take a sip, "Yeah," I say softly.

I try to test the waters on whether or not he'll make me eat all of the soup, "Do I have to eat all of it?" I ask. He looks torn between taking compassion or putting his foot down, "Half the bowl. Half the bowl, and I'll let you go to bed."

I hesitate on eating it, and I realize he's just watching me, but it's almost like he's not watching me. He looks simply detached from the entire thing, he looks exhausted, just waiting for me to be finished and shame floods my insides and I force myself to eat 3 more spoonfuls of the soup.