No sooner than I opened my mouth to take a bite of the savory smelling dish, did we hear a gut-wrenching scream. We all froze, knowing the exact source of the agonizing wailing. Each of us sat completely still, unsure of what to do.. of what could be done. We said in utter silence, unable to eat, as Lady Isadora’s pained cries overtook the kitchen table. The atmosphere grew dark and the air seemed heavier. It had never been so hard to share a meal, I don't think anyone even took a single bite of the chicken blancmange at all.

I felt awful for doing so but when my heart could no longer stand listening to the lady crying out in such agony, I quickly excused myself, thanking them for the meal. Having practically run out of the kitchen. Never in my life had I experienced such an awkwardly painful meal. That girl had gone through too much suffering for one lifetime. 

I was relieved for the day after submitting my report and the unused test strips to Mr. Abraham. To which he read with no particular commentary or outward display of feeling. Be it overt professionalism or an unempathetic resolve, I couldn't help but wonder about his sincerity for the poor girl's plight.

My mind's incessant rumination over what had been done to Lady Isadora would not grant me a moment's peace. Having the sound of gravel crushing roughly between the ground and the bottoms of my soles on one hand and the dead silence on the road home on the other, my mind had little choice but to succumb to the thoughts of the day that were rapaciously clawing at my back. Waiting for the chance to invade my innermost reverent space.

Those thoughts were like demons, growing stronger as the sun faded. Without realizing it, for the first time in a long time, I'd missed the sunset. That stunning golden hour had passed so much more quickly than it came–

I felt a sudden brush against my pant leg. I looked down. Jack had come to greet me. Although I didn't know how long I'd been standing there, I somehow knew Jack had kept me company. I reached down stroking his soft silken feathers. He let out a low rumbling ‘coo’.

“Until the morning my friend,” I said softly before making my way towards my home. Dim welcome candlelight glowed through the windows.

“Henry?” Lyra's soft call echoed from our now ajar front door.

“I'm home,” I replied, pulling her into a strong embrace, before ushering her inside out of the night's subtle chill.

Before I knew it I had changed and found myself seated at the table. A small meal spread before me, that I for some reason couldn't bring myself to touch. 

“Are you not hungry, Henry?” She asked from the chair beside me, raising a hand, and  softly stroking my upper back. I shook my head and began to eat. Struggling to keep the nausea that was threatening to erupt down in the pits of my stomach.

We spoke a bit before retiring for the evening. Lyra was aberrantly curious about Lady Isadora. She flooded me with many questions. Has she been seen by a doctor? What had the results been? Did she have a particular reaction to the incident? I answered her truthfully, chalking the questions up to sheer curiosity. The one thing I did sternly state were my feelings on the supposed disingenuous nature of her family, as it seemed like an intentionally cruel and harmful act. Lyra didn't have a response for that. We sat in comfortable silence before turning in for the night.

As I lay awake, my stomach churned. I couldn't help but feel nauseated by my actions. How could a grown man, a sullen cur, think so poorly of an innocent child? My deplorable behavior rang all too clearly in the back of my mind, threatening to never rid itself. I racked my brain tirelessly about how I could better assist Lady Isadora moving forward.