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\u201cYou weren\u2019t supposed to be back yet,\u201d Vanessa stammered, the glass trembling in her hand.<\/p>\n
Thaddius didn\u2019t look at her. He didn\u2019t blink. He walked toward me, his boots heavy on the floor. He dropped his bag and crouched beside me, ignoring the bleach, ignoring the audience. He took my hands\u2014my shaking, raw hands\u2014into his.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is this?\u201d he asked, his voice trembling with a rage so profound it sounded like grief.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2026\u201d My voice failed. Shame is a heavy gag. \u201cI was just cleaning up a spill.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe likes doing chores,\u201d Vanessa\u2019s mother piped up from the chair, a nervous, defensive scoff. \u201cHelps her feel useful. You know how old folks get. They need purpose.\u201d<\/p>\n
Useful.\u00a0Like I was a broken toaster. Like I was furniture.<\/p>\n
Thaddius looked up then. The expression on his face wasn\u2019t human. It was the look of a predator deciding which artery to sever first. He looked at Vanessa, then at her family.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom,\u201d he said, turning back to me, his voice dropping to a terrifying calm. \u201cGet your things.\u201d<\/p>\n