Poisoned Rosey

Chapter 17: ROSEY

I nibble on my bottom lip, determined to succeed the perfect color for his eyes.

A deep chocolate brown that whirled between a tense green and specks of a blurry grey.

So far it's good, but I have struggled to mend the hazy grey and the brown together so that the colors would complement one another.

Today I'm trying something new--drawing faces.

Was I succeeding?

Well, um, in a way yes.

I still have my struggles on how to draw a face, even more so with the body, but I have this blessing to put a picture that is my head on a paper and be satisfied with the results.

Do I still need work?

Yes, lots of it, but I'm on the contrary very satisfied.

The way I wanted to start the drawing was a griefing need that kept hurling itself in my soul, but the closer I was to finish was the first realization that it was not a need, but a want.

I wanted to finish it because I wanted to see him. Even if he wasn't here.

He was here...just not in person.

My eyes trail back to the bowl of berries and bit down onto my lip, wondering if I should take one to eat.

I reached out and pinched the berry with my index finger and thumb, bring it to my lips, and bit into its juicy flesh.

I lick my lips when the savory fluids damped them and decided to eat another one.

I was oddly in the mood to keep eating and by the time my mind was awake was when I realized I've eaten half of the food Master prepared for me.

I only had the berries to eat and now I'm enjoying them while sketching.

Something to nibble on while concentrating on a sketch.

I pull my eyes to focus on the food before glancing up at the clock that stood above Master's bed and pursing my lips in the process.

It was getting late. 4:47.

I don't know where he is, but I could only guess that he was probably in a meeting since he took a stack of notes with him.

Or was it the result of the hybrids?

I sigh, slumping my shoulders to relax my body fully against the cold surface of the window sill.

Even if we never talk, the place seems empty and that makes me feel lonely.

If I'm not in the mood for eating or drawing, I secretly watch Master.

It was interesting to watch him. To see what he prefers, how he thinks and does things.

I've noted that he hates cold blood and greens. He even dislikes cake!

Even if cake is a favorite among my list of delicacies, I could also understand.

I'm not a fan of sweet things or not a lot, and cake was one of those sweet things that could cause nausea if you eat too much of it.

Maybe he hated sweet things?

I never truly saw him eat a lot of sweet things.

"......"

With a startled jump, I clutch my drawing pad close to my chest and stare at the opening door.

I held my breath when the wait caused panic and a great amount of fear to trickle down my chest and leave an intensity that ached my chest and poured flapping insects into my stomach.