Chapter 7: His friend and his Revenge

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I stood by the pool and observed Rachel frolic in the water, her laughter ringing in my ears like a sweet melody.

After a while, Jameson beckoned us to our room, and as I entered, I was taken aback by the sheer luxury of it. The room was expansive with a king-sized bed, a plush couch, and a state-of-the-art television.

A fully stocked bar stood in one corner, and a balcony overlooking the breathtaking view.

As I walked into the bathroom, my gaze fell on my reflection in the mirror. I shuddered at the sight of my empty, black, and bloody eye socket. Even though there was no difference when I had an eye in it, the hollowness of that void made me feel incomplete. My eyes had always been vacant, devoid of any emotions. I quickly put on my eye patch and continued to explore the opulence of our room.

As I opened the closet, I was greeted by an array of designer clothes, shoes, hats, and watches, all meticulously arranged in perfect order.

"I'm hungry," Rachel spoke, her voice groggy from waking up from her nap.

"I'll get you something to eat," I replied, walking towards the door. "Stay here."

As I walked down the hallway, I could hear the sound of laughter and giggling. Curiosity piqued, I followed the sounds and found myself at the top of the staircase.
Looking down towards the middle of the stairs, I saw a group of kids around my age, eating snacks and chatting away.

I slowly made my way down the stairs, trying not to draw too much attention to myself.

I walked towards the kitchen and began to make some food for my sister.

I heard their whispers cutting through the silence, slicing through the air like a sharp knife as I methodically made my sandwich. Rachel wouldn't be satisfied with just one,

I thought to myself, so I debated whether to make two or three. In the end, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I needed to make more, so I found myself making six sandwiches, just in case.

As I trekked back up the stairs, sandwich tray in hand, Jameson's voice broke through my thoughts.

"He's just one of my patients from the hospital. Don't mind him." I tried to ignore the pity in his voice, focusing on the task at hand.

I placed the sandwiches on the tray and began walking away when a voice called out to me.

"Hey, wait!" The sound of footsteps echoed through the silent hallway, and I stopped in my tracks, turning to face the woman who had called out to me.

I forced a smile, trying to mask the annoyance that had been building within me.

"Yes?" I replied, my tone as friendly as possible.

"Why do you have all those sandwiches?" she asked, her eyes flickering to the tray in my hands.

"My sister said she was hungry," I explained, hoping to end the conversation quickly.

"Why can't she make it herself?" she snarled, her voice dripping with venom.

Why can't you just shut up?

I took a deep breath and tried to keep my cool.

"She's broken her leg," I lied. "I didn't want her to go through the trouble of going down the stairs." The woman let out a sad sigh, and I turned to head back upstairs.

"Tell her to holla at me when she's feeling better," a guy with bulging muscles and fiery red hair spoke up. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"she's 8," I frowned. The guy looked embarrassed as his friends laughed and teased him.

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