Page 35 of Glass

My days begin to pass relatively peacefully. And if I can’t stop myself from glancing at Rafe’s back as he disappears away from me, if I look for Kit in the creaking shadows at night, then it’s a small price to pay for being left the hell alone.

I don’t see Silas at all.

No taunts, with the exception of Clara’s little digs. Nobody chains me up, or threatens me, or spits in my face. I get regular meals, and I manage to sneak a towel down to the kitchen that I use as a pillow for my head.

“Really,” I say to myself in the little bathroom mirror one night. “This is practically a luxury.”

Ignoring the deepening circles under my eyes, I poke at my hair despondently. It’s still knotted as hell, even though I’ve used most of the conditioner from Kit on trying to work through it. Sighing, I flick the light off and head back to the kitchen.

“Anastasia,” Ellen turns to me with surprise. “You’re done for today?”

I nod. The cereal Rafe chose today wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. Ellen sighs, and my eyes slide past her to the stack of plates. “I might need your help at dinner.”

My eyes jerk back to her. Pleading. “What about Clara?”

Ellen grimaces. “She’s sick today.”

Of course she is.

“I know you don’t like it,” Ellen says in a no-nonsense tone, “but if you can avoid throwing soup on anyone, I would very much appreciate it.”

I flush. “That wasonetime.”

“The only time.” Ellen pins me with a frown, and I relent, holding up my hands.

“Yes, the only time.”

Unless Rafe decides to mouth off again.

But tonight, he’s nowhere to be seen. I carry out the plates, setting one in front of Silas and one in front of Kit. When I place one down in front of Rafe’s empty chair, Silas deigns to address me.

“Take it away,” he says abruptly. “He’s not coming back until later.”

Silently, I pull the plate back. Maybe I’ll get a respite from the floor wars tomorrow.

Silas and Kit are talking when I come back out with a tray.

“It seems to be everywhere,” Silas sighs. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than a bad flu.”

Kit scoffs. “The press like to exaggerate. Probably no more than a cold.”

My hands shake as I try to reach over and place the heavy tray in the center of the table. Warm hands cover mine, gently setting it down. “I’ve got it.”

“Thanks.” I don’t look at Kit as I ease back, fully intending to escape to the safety of the kitchen. But Silas, it would seem, has other plans.

“Anastasia.”

Bracing myself, I turn. “Yes?”

Silas watches me, but he doesn’t say anything. I lift up my chin. “Did I do something wrong?”

Apparently, even mywordsare wrong, because his eyes harden. “Sit.”

I cast a glance towards Kit, but he’s watching Silas with his eyebrows furrowed.

Now I’m really worried. “Uh – actually, I think I hear Ellen calling—,”

“Sit. Down.”