The smell of slightly overcooked rice and fried meat filled the kitchen.
Meg slammed the lid onto a brightly colored lunchbox, harder than necessary. "Stupid Fin," she muttered under her breath, shoving it into a carry bag. "Nearly dies, comes back acting weird, gets himself broken again..."
Worry gnawed at her. The way he looked in that hospital bed... pale, bandaged, but those eyes. Blank. Like someone had scooped out the real Fin and left an empty shell.
"Maybe I should just lock him in the basement," she grumbled, grabbing her keys. "Can't get hurt if he never leaves the house. Stupid, reckless idiot."
She sighed, the anger deflating into exhaustion. He scared her. He scared her so badly.
She opened the apartment door, ready to face the drizzle and the trip across the city.
And froze.
