The Butterfly Keeper

7

SEVEN

IT HAS been a couple days since I told Sebastian that he should let me go. After I told him what I wanted, he looked at me like I had just murdered someone before his eyes. He stared at me with such a horrified and pained face that I was afraid he was going to explode. He didn't, instead, he walked out the living room and locked himself in his room.

Since then, Sebastian hasn't spoken to me and avoids being in the same room. It's a relief not seeing much of him around the house, but I can't help but be ill at ease that he might be plotting something behind this whole act.

Kneading my damp hair in between a towel, I swallow my uneasiness and walk out of the bathroom and into the living room. There was only enough water to wash my hair in the bucket that is used for rinsing out the dishes. I didn't want to ask Sebastian for clean water and for clothing neither so I had to work with what was available.

I shouldn't have even bothered because I still feel gross and want to shed the dirty layer of skin and hair I have.

I let the towel slip from out of my hands when I see Sebastian eating at the table in the kitchen with a his head in a book.

Not tearing his sight from the page, he pushes a plate across the table to an empty spot facing him with his free hand while the other hand holds the book in his face. He grabs a fork from beside his plate and places it next to the plate in front of him, causing his short sleeve to ride up and expose the few inks he has on his upper bicep.

I bend down and grab the towel from off the floor as Sebastian continues to read, not caring to look in my direction. Before he can heed my presence, I softly step over to the hallway, dragging my feet in a deaden manner.

"Come sit down,"

I fist the towel and squeeze my eyes shut, my mouth denting in a frown at the sudden sound of Sebastian's voice as I halt in place. His voice is gruff and thick like if he hasn't used his throat in days. His tone is dictate and firm, but at the same time smooth and tender as if he trying hard to be demanding.

Sebastian places the book down and turns his head to me. His thumb runs over the corner of the pages as his eyes trace the depths of my face. "Please,"

I spread the towel over both hands and bring it my face. With the cotton fabric, I rub the skin on my face, cleansing the dirt inside my pores. I bring the towel down from my face and walk towards the couch so I can lay out the towel on the arm of couch to dry.

Once setting it down, I toss my soaking hair behind my shoulders and tentatively go over to the empty chair where the plate and fork is set at.

Sebastian peers at me from underneath his lashes before he returns his attention back to the book as I push the chair back and sit. There's an omelet along with bacon and a bagel on the plate. I swiftly grab the fork and sink in the food, eating it entirely whole.

I should've gone to the room and leave things the way they were, but I'm starving. I haven't had an actual meal ever since Sebastian started ignoring me because I'm no good when it comes to cooking. I've been snacking on the junk food I find set alongside the kitchen's counter to keep my hunger at bay and lately, I have notice weight gain.

My face is fuller, not sunken like it was days before, and my bones aren't as salient. My skin has returned back to its umber color and I don't even have to fold the waistband of the sweatpants that much anymore.

Chewing on the last of the omelet, I gaze up from the plate and look at Sebastian indenting his eyebrows as he reads. I tilt my head to side, discreetly, to get a look at the title of the book. I tilt my head more and squint my eyes as I try to read the foreign title.