Chapter Four

Bryn tells me he has things to finish when we return to the house, suggests that I stay off my feet. I do not want to be in the way so I agree leaving him in the front room to do whatever it is he wishes to do alone.

The room with the rough stone wall has bookshelves made of dark thick wood at its edges. The shelves lined with objects I noticed immediately when I first entered the room earlier looking for Bryn but that I did not have time to sift through.

I run my fingertips over the spines reading the titles gathered here. They are in no particular order and the names often give little information about what they contain. Most of them are stories I do not know which is a novelty I am eager to investigate. After a few minutes I make a choice carrying the book I've selected to the sofa laying down instead of sitting so I can prop my aching feet beside me after sliding off my shoes and making sure the gauze covering them is still clean.

Bryn is outside the house for a long time. I guess that he is out in the barn doing whatever it is 'pickers' do when they have so much gathered stuff to sell maybe he is sorting things, maybe moving items around in the many different boxes. I try not to think about it when I find myself wondering more than once.

When he returns he smells like sweat and dirt more than before. There's a distracting smudge of dirt across one of his cheeks, and his dark shirt clings to his skin. He pauses standing at the edge of the couch staring down at me. I sit up wondering if I am not supposed to put my feet up here, I did not ask.

"You can read?" his tone is odd again. I get the feeling that once again I have done something he did not expect, though based on his expression I do not know if I would say it is wrong.

I nod slowly. "Yes, I was taught to read."

His expression shifts to something I cannot name. "I'm going to make food." He informs me.

"But we have already eaten today."

"Hours ago." Bryn says already moving toward the other room, but then he stops quite suddenly turning back to face me. "I'm going to regret asking this," He says and he is staring at the ceiling again. He moves closer until he is leaning his hands against the side of the couch staring down at his boots for a second, when he looks up at me once more something in his gaze makes me look away. "Please tell me they fed you more than once a day."

His phrasing is odd; to do so would be a lie. I am not supposed to lie. Though I have done it before, the thought of lying to Bryn makes my stomach ache. He's still watching me, waiting I realize for me to answer.

"I can't tell you that," I stare down at the book in my hands preoccupied by the falling sensation in the pit of my stomach at having to disappoint him once more.

Bryn says something not nice in a harsh tone jerking his hands off the couches arm and stalking away. His boot falls loud and swift on the hardwood floor.

There are loud noises in the other room, metal clanging and the door to the fridge opening and shutting with more force then I believe is necessary. I try to read the next chapter of my book but the words keep sliding together, my eyes scan them repeatedly but their meanings continually slips away. All I can think about is Bryn grumbling words I cannot catch and the angry sounds he makes in between before slamming something down again.

I set the book against the couch pulling my feet up once more so I can wrap my arms around my legs hide my face against my knees. I recognize the guilty knot of disappointment twisting in my gut; I have felt it many times before in the presence of Griss and Dr. Patrice when I could not do what they asked, no matter how hard I tried. But I have never before felt the sting of tears that now accompanies it or the lump stuck halfway up my throat I cannot swallow down.

I tell myself firmly I will not cry. Crying will solve nothing. I will try harder to learn the right answers so I do not continue to get them wrong. I do not wish to anger Bryn, not when he is the first person to ever give me things I was allowed to keep.

I hear him come back into the room. The sound of his boots on the hardwood stops just inside the doorway but I do not lift my face. I can't. I'm too ashamed to still be fighting the hot prickling burn of tears behind my eyelids. Somehow his presence makes it worse. My chest tightens and I draw in a hitching breath like I have been running even though I haven't moved.

I hear him move closer and my body does it again and I can't stop it. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to ignore the burn, the knot sitting in the pit of my stomach. He moves in front of me, I cannot see him with my head dipped down behind my legs but I can feel him there. I can feel him watching me, and it hurts in a way it never has before.

"I'm sorry," I rasp and my breathe hitches again.

It is another failure, one more mark against me. I have not cried in front of someone else since I was very small. Crying in front of Griss was a punishable mistake anyone with intelligence would only make once. I sob harder clench my arms around my legs trying to stop. Squeezing my thighs tight to my chest trying to hold it in, trap the feeling stabbing under my ribcage before it can escape.

"I'll try harder, I'll do better…" I do not even know if he can understand my words. I need him too know that I am trying. I do not want to disappoint Bryn the way I continually disappointed Griss. If I do that then Bryn will send me away too. I have not been here long but I do not know where else I would go. My lip trembles with my next broken inhale and I trap it against my teeth biting down trying to stop the sound clawing up my throat. Surprised when the tangy flavor of copper coats my tongue.

The cushion under my butt dips sideways causing me to tip. Before I can react—put a hand out to stop my inevitable fall I bump into a warm solid chest, a strong arm wraps around my back. His arm is long enough that his fingertips are draped against my other arm, encircling it as he pulls me closer. His other arm now rests against mine, his entire body twisted towards me I realize so he can wrap both his arms around the little ball I've curled myself into trying to hide my shame.

"Don't be sorry. Shit, I'm not mad at you. It's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong." He tells me which I know cannot be right. I have done many things wrong, but the thought of telling his about my previous failures and the reason I had to run makes me feel even worse.

He holds me like that for a long time. Long enough that my breathing returns to normal, and the tang of copper fades from my lips. My neck starts to ache. I lift my head swiping at my eyes and cheeks trying to erase the wetness still clinging to my skin.

"Shit you bit your lip," Bryn says and he is already picking me up even though I am completely capable of walking; I did it earlier to and from the barn in boots that didn't fit.

He pushes open the door to the bathroom with the glass shower setting me on the white countertop beside the sink before opening a cabinet and pulling out a small folded square of material. He wets it in the sink and presses it to my lower lip. It's soft, and cold and smells a little like stale soap. I raise my hand to take the cloth from him but he doesn't let it go, simply pats the material against my lip his gaze intent on carefully wiping the blood from my skin. I drop my hand again, clench my fingers together in my lap.

My chest feels tight again, and something I have no name for slips on a shiver through my belly. My whole body breaks out in gooseflesh when he looks up at me. His eyes are actually many interwoven tangled spokes of amber and ocher the tiniest threads of a deeper liquid brown lying between them, there's the barest hint of vibrant green ringing each dark pupil I never noticed, it's only visible from this close. My breathe catches in my throat, gets stuck somehow on the back of my tongue until he looks away tossing the now bloody square into the sink.

He straightens up moving away from me and clears his throat he's looking at me still, but no longer meeting my eyes. "Do you think you can eat?" His tone is quiet, unsure and carrying none of the anger from earlier.

I consider his question for only a brief moment. If it will make him happy then yes I will eat. When I nod Bryn takes my hand and helps me off the countertop then he lets me go. He does not carry me this time and he keeps his eyes averted even after he has me seated across from him in one of the straight back wooden chairs and he's placed another red plate of food in front of me.

It is not eggs but something else. I do not ask him what when he sits down and starts to eat. He does not look like he wants to talk. So we eat in silence. The food is good, but there is far too much on my plate. I do not want to disappoint him again so I eat it. When my plate is empty my stomach hurts.

"I have some more work to do." Bryn says taking the red plates once more to the sink. He stands there for a moment one hand braced against the wooden surface before he says. "Will you be okay?"

I nod and tell him yes though I'm not certain what he means. When he leaves the house again I return to the couch and my forgotten book. After a few minutes the words stay on the page, and start to make sense in my head. I no longer see Bryn's confusing honey colored eyes every time I close mine. Two chapters later my eyelids are feeling heavy again and the words on the page begin to blur. I set the book down and fall asleep.