Page 41 of Glass

Silently, I pick up the plates and follow her. The cold is expanding in my stomach, heavy and numbing. Blissfully numbing. And I embrace it, opening myself up to let it fill me, starting with my feet and working upwards.

I don’t want tofeelanymore. What’s the point?

I feel Rafe’s eyes on my face as soon as I walk in. His hair is scraped back, damp and styled as he sits next to a beaming Clara. She titters, leaning in and making sure she presses her breasts into his arm as she whispers something in his ear.

And yet I don’t feel anything.

I look away, accidentally locking eyes with Kit. The violet darkens, a frown crossing his face as he examines me. “Stasi? Are you… alright?”

Everyone goes silent as his words carry across the room. Even Ellen twists to look at me, frowning. “Anastasia?”

“Nothing,” I say tonelessly. I set his plate down in front of him. “I’m fine.”

Rafe leans forward. “Anastasia.”

I slide my eyes to him. “Can I get you something?”

He flinches. Clara’s smile drops away from her face as her eyes move between us. Silas straightens. “Somebody explain what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” I repeat again.

Silas focuses on my face, and he pauses. His deep blue eyes flicker over me. Once, twice. Again. “Are you sure?”

I don’t know what they’re seeing on my face, but I try my best to wipe it away, wanting them all to stoplooking.

Maybe an apology will help. “Sorry.”

Rafe jerks. Silas frowns. “What are you sorry for?”

Existing.

Instead, I shrug. I stay silent and stare at the floor, as Ellen serves the food to the silent table. She places a hand on my arm, and I jump, looking up from the ground.

“Come on,” she says. Her voice softer than it normally is. “Let’s get you something to eat, shall we? Breakfast was a long time ago. You’ll feel better.”

“She hasn’t had lunch?” Silas’s voice.

Ellen straightens. Her voice carries, unusually cutting. “When would she have time?”

I should be surprised that she’s standing up for me, but I can’t seem to muster anything beyond the creeping numbness invading my body. I follow her down to the kitchen, where she cuts up a piece of the pie she’s just served upstairs.

I stare down at it. “I’m not allowed to eat that.”

Even my voice sounds dull. Ellen puts her hands on the table. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” I pick up the fork, but my appetite is non-existent, even with something that isn’tbrothin front of me.

And I didn’t even have to get on my knees for it.

I push the plate away. “I should get back to work.”

But Ellen’s hand lands on my shoulder.

“No more work tonight, Stasi,” she says gently. “How about a shower? Head on up and I’ll make you a hot drink.”

But I shake my head, sliding off the chair. “No, thank you. I’ll… finish this later.”

And I go back to work.