"Kitten..." (BOOK 3 of The Mr. Gabriel Series)

Chapter 3

I pause with my hand on the front door of this apartment building. It hasn't even crossed my mind how I got here. I should have been in the truck. The truck that I crashed into the interstate sign.

You call my name in a small voice and ask, "What's wrong...?"

With my gaze locked on the knob, my eyebrows knit more in confusion. "I just realized that I possibly don't have a vehicle." Was I so caught up in getting here that I completely forgot?

I turn to you and see your hands slide off your arms and your face twist with bewilderment.

"What do you mean? What happened to your truck?" you ask.

I start scratching my head, looking around. "It's a little complicated. It's probably best we don't talk about it here."

"...Well, can we just go back to my apartment and make something? We can talk there."

"Do you have food?"

"Are you kidding me..."

At that, my eyes darken in more disapproval.
It seems to make you nervous.

You slowly turn and start heading back upstairs. "Yeah, I have food."

I stand still while staring at you in that same way, then I follow. "Keep talking to me like that and you'll be disciplined."

We make our way back to your apartment and the first place I go is the kitchen table.

You're moving a little slower now, a little more careful about everything you're doing. Opening the fridge is more of a task than a simple movement. I want to jump inside your head to understand why you're doing this, but I don't want to cause you to have a panic attack.

Instead, I lace my fingers together on the table and tilt my head curiously.

You stop searching around for something to get and hold your mouth like you're going to throw up. My eyes grow a bit. "Addison?"

You back up, hitting the wall with your hand still over your mouth.

I stand up and go shut the fridge. "What's the matter?"

As you squeeze your eyes shut, I see a tear travel down your cheek.

I can't help it anymore. I look inside your mind and find a memory has resurfaced after you've smelled the inside of the refrigerator; it's a memory of when Reuben took you to the cafeteria and you saw all those patients and medical staff who looked like they were in different states of decomposition. You think you're feeling that same pain from that time you were pregnant with that creature. It becomes so real that you heave out, "I can't-!" and you run to the sink and throw up. I quickly grab your hair and hold it out of your way, watching in shock.

He made you eat something you thought was like garbage, but I have a feeling he wouldn't have done that to you. It was all in your head, because that's what the realm did.

I turn my attention away and tell you, "Addison, maybe you should stay out of the kitchen."

You don't say anything.

I grab a towel and while you wash your mouth off, standing up again, I notice you're not really here with me -- mentally. I knew this kind of thing would happen. I expected this. Why should I be so surprised?

"Here... take this." I give you the towel, watching very closely.

Taking it, you finally look at me but never say a word and walk out of the room as if treading on thin ice. The voices from all those you heard in the hospital at different times are back.

I step into the doorway and see you gently sit down on the couch and look outside. Where are you, Addison? You're here, but you're there.

I don't think I've ever spent time with someone experiencing this problem. I've been around for a long time, thought I'd seen it all... but this is actually... new.

Rubbing my chin, I let my head down and then go back into the kitchen. I guess I'll have to make something for you...

While I look in the cabinets and find some soup, I think about how I was when I first arrived in that place, and then I compare it to how I am now. The line between then and now is a little blurry. I was so focused on what I wanted. I saw you as an object. I see everyone as an object, but you've become quite something to me. I wanted you to bleed. I wanted to see you on the brink of death, begging for it all to stop. To see the light fading from your eyes, knowing I had the power to heal you and take as much of that memory from you as I possibly could, all of that control was something I longed so heavily for. I've had it for so long. Then, having you for such a short time and taken from me, all the trials I went through to get you back...

Just stop.

I've stewed on this so much already.

I toss the package of soup across the counter and put my back against it, my hands on my face as I let out a long frustrated sigh. Who am I now? A damn housewife? I can't see myself living like this and being comfortable. I know you're sensitive right now. What am I going to do?

***

I've made soup and sandwiches. I walk into the living room with your food and clear my throat as I see you layed over on the couch.

You look at me and sit up right away. "What?"

"I made you something to eat." I offer it to you.

Carefully, suspiciously, you take it and thank me in a quiet voice. Does this surprise you or something? Don't rub it in. This is new to me, too.

I go ahead and sit across from you in a black armchair, setting the soup bowl on the coffee table beside me. "Can you eat?" I ask before taking a bite of my sandwich.

You don't speak.

I look up at you and you've already started eating. Hm... alright then.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't help this." You mumble.

"It's not your fault."

"If I didn't move here, none of this would've happened."

I take a few more big bites of my sandwich, glancing up at you again. All I can think is how that makes me a little angry. That comment sounds ungrateful. I'm glad I've had the chance to meet you. How could you say such a thing?

I hold back from speaking my mind and ask, "Where are you originally from?"

"Orlando, Florida. ...What about you?"

"I've been here all my life."

You nod a bit.

Then after a few more bites, you say, "How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?"

I smirk.

"What?"

Flashing my eyes up at you again, I answer in a whisper, "I'm 116."

You sit back in amazement.

I blink and look down at the soup, my smile gradually fading. "Age is nothing when you're like me."  

"...Would you ever tell me how you became this way?"

"No. Not yet anyway. I don't want to tell you right now."

You're not sure what to say to that. The room goes silent and stays like that for a while. We eat quietly and though I look at you, you shy away from keeping eye contact for long.

You don't have to do that, Addison.

I'm not him.

You finish eating and start to get up.
"Ah!" I stop you and take your plate and bowl. "I'll handle this."

"Gabriel, I can't just sit around."

"I want you to relax for once, alright? Do that for me."

You slump your shoulders. "You're so weird."

I ignore that, carrying on back into the kitchen.