Collapsed: Book One of The Illusion of Truth by Jenetta Penner

Author:Jenetta Penner [Penner, Jenetta]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Torment Publishing
Published: 2020-12-26T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

My plate of dry chicken and pasty mashed potatoes sits largely uneaten on top of Ellie’s dresser. I’m convinced that the kitchen staff leaves my meals uncovered in the walk-in refrigerator for at least a day before they’re delivered to my room, judging by the weird skin that coats some of the food and the forever dry nature of the meats. There’s no way it’s the same quality of food served to the Pierces or even the other staff.

Most days I barely care, and today is no exception. After what happened in the city earlier, my appetite is completely gone. The dropped and splattered sundae I didn’t even get one bite of was a huge loss, but it pales in comparison to the attack on the protestors.

I wring my hands together in an attempt to soothe the trembling, but it doesn’t seem to last, and every few minutes I’m repeating the process.

Ellie sits in the center of her bed staring into space. She went through the motions of tooth brushing, bedtime story and her nightly hair brushing with barely a word to me. The afternoon had an effect on her too.

I keep glancing at the door, fully expecting her mother to come in and offer some sort of comfort, but so far she hasn’t. Mama wouldn’t have wasted a second making sure that I was okay, but Mrs. Pierce is not Mama . . . not even close. Dr. Pierce is still out of town, so who knows if he’s even aware of what happened.

“Can I brush your hair?” Ellie finally speaks and pulls me from my thoughts.

“What?” I ask and bring my hand to my tight bun.

She shrugs. “You brush my hair all the time, and I thought maybe I could finally have a turn.”

I force a smile and grab the gold-handled brush from the vanity. Brushes aren’t great for my curly hair when dry, but what’s the harm? Maybe it will help Ellie relax from the day. Me too, for that matter.

“Sure,” I say. I walk over to hand her the brush and lower myself to sit on the edge of her bed.

The child gives me a soft smile and begins removing the band holding my bun in place. When she’s finished, my curls fall out over my shoulders and down my back. The release makes my scalp almost itch, and I resist the urge to turn over my head and shake out my hair. Before Ellie puts a brush to the curls, she runs her fingers through them.

“They’re so pretty,” she croons.

I chuckle. “My hair? It’s wild.”

Even without looking, I can feel the motion of Ellie shaking her head. “No . . . they’re like curled ribbons on a birthday present.”

I crane my neck around to get a good look at her, and for the first time since this afternoon, she’s smiling. “Really?”

“Mmm hmm,” she says and starts gently pulling the brush through my hair. “And you are my favorite gift ever, Tenly.”

I’m not quite sure

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