28 Unfeeling

I waited till he was done stirring the dough into a pulp to scoop it onto the cookie sheets.

But I was too nervous about putting them in the oven. My hands were still shaking and I didn't trust myself.

I walked back to where James sat, his hand was writing something down on a yellow notepad. I swallowed and somehow found my hand on the hair elastic wrapped tightly around my wrist. I snapped it, knowing in the back of my mind that that would help somewhat, it stung but I could think more clearly.

I snapped it once more and James looked up disgruntledly from his work, "What now?"

I swallowed once more and looking down, I said in the same small and quiet tone, "I might burn myself."

"You might burn yourself?" He said in almost a mocking tone. I blinked, he was acting differently today. He'd probably not enjoyed having to fight his family to protect me, the weak and defenceless human.

"I'm sure with all your issues you've already been burned." He mumbled, it seemed almost as if he thought I hadn't heard.

I wasn't entirely deaf. I pawed at my ear again just to make sure once more. No sound reached it.

But he was right. I had been burned before and would rather avoid being burned again. His words struck a chord in me. The fact that he knew, that he'd learned what I'd experienced was almost terrifying. My pulse began to race and I could feel my breath threatening to increase.

He stood hurriedly and I jumped back, my toes crying out in pain at the action.

"I'll do it, pathetic creature." He muttered the last part, but I caught it.

He practically tossed the cookie sheets into the oven. I walked carefully to where he stood in front of the polished black appliance.

I reached over the shiny, electrical stovetop and pressed in the time needed for them to bake. After a few seconds James returned to his work and I looked at the door that led to the basement.

Parker hung out down there half the time, I missed my cat.

I walked in that direction and opened the door that led to a dark stairwell. A vision of the dank, shadow casting hallway that had led out of my cell appeared in my mind. I closed my eyes and slapped the hair elastic against my wrist.

Snap!

My eyes shot open and I inhaled sharply. I could do this. For some reason I felt as though I had to do this. I had to.

With slow but determined steps I planted my feet on each stair and convinced myself that the shadows weren't Elves.

Reaching the floor at the bottom—my wrist pink from the elastic having been slapped so many times—I inhaled shakily and surveyed it for the second time. I took tentative steps towards the lamp that stood from the mass of darkness.

Finding a dangling chain I pulled it and the room flooded with light. A relieved sigh escaped my nostrils and I was once again tempted to smile. What was wrong with me today?

To be frank, my change in attitude was scaring me. Over the last two weeks of knowing James and living in this house with him, I'd accidentally dropped my guard. It scared me more than anything that he was able to read my facial expressions, even though I didn't have any.

I shook my head and pressed my fingers to my temples. 'Focus.' I ordered myself although it was hard with too many things to worry about.

I began to find other light switches and I turned on all of the lights I could find. They shooed away the darkness and made it easier to walk through the expansive basement.

My hand ran along the white painted drywall as I walked down a hallway. The white walls helped to brighten the place up. I stopped when I came to a door that was cracked open. With very hesitant steps I walked towards it.

'There are no Elves inside the Pack.' I told myself as I nudged the door open. I felt a sense of calm upon realizing that it was Duma's old room. I wished he'd been able to stay a little longer, I should visit him.

A meow distracted me from my distracting thoughts. I looked down to see my precious Abyssinian cat sitting on a bed next to the door. I reached down and picked him up, cradling him against my chest.

I explored the entire basement, my eyes sweeping every surface and box. If I knew where these things were then they might be useful in the future. My eyes had just landed on a box labeled with my name when the oven timer went off.

With my arms still clinging to my cat I walked up the stairs and my weak leg muscles began to quake. I huffed a few breaths and when I finally made it to the top I collapsed on my knees. I heard James scoff from the table and I tried to control my panting.

Rising, I tumbled towards the oven and I pulled out the cookie trays. I frowned when I realized that I'd done it with my bare hands.

"What did you do?" I heard James ask from behind my shoulder and I jumped. I hated when he snuck up on me. He shouldn't have been able to because of his size but he somehow managed it.

But his gaze was not on me, but on my hands. Both hands were bright pink and had some whitening flesh that striped the palms and fingertips.

The kitchen was eerily silent as we observed the burnt skin of my hands.

"Did it not hurt?" He finally asked.

I shook my head almost imperceptibly, but he seemed to gather my answer.

"Get those in some cold water." He said next and then he took a step so he could reach the sink. Turning on the tap he grabbed my wrists in one hand and held them under the cold water.

As my hands sat in the running water I thought of why I'd not felt it. It had never happened before. One reason could be spinal damage from when my spine had been crushed. Or, another possible reason could be from when my hands had been removed from my body.

I sighed as a rather dismal thought passed through my brain; maybe it was because I had no soul left to feel the pain.

With my thoughts lingering on that reflection, I watched as the trees moved in the gentle wind not feeling the cold water on my hands.