"Abigail." Elias calls my name, presumably an attempt to get me to lift my gaze so I meet his.
I don't respond. I just sit, wishing this pull I feel toward him was a limb that I could tear away from my body. But it isn't.
Silence falls between us for several seconds. That is until he gets to my back and pushes the wheelchair so that I face the table, with a tray of food on top. I don't want to eat, I won't eat. Sitting here, the aroma of the meal fills my nose, and though it does a good job of making my mouth water to a degree. Some other faint smell lingering above that of the meal grabs my attention, this smell is...familiar.
Pulling me from my thoughts is Elias, who sits on the seat beside me, the massive seat that is evidently his throne. I turn my gaze to the right, so I don't even catch a glimpse of him. I can feel his gaze still on me, and I wish I could tear off the part of my skin he is looking at.
