Days passed since my chat with Pularis and Patricia. And if I may say…
“How many times must it be told until you get it in that stupid head of yours?!”
Nothing has changed. No improvements, no news or updates, nothing. Just more abuse by the hands of one Duncan, who for example was currently dumping hot stew all over me in the dining room. Stew, that was made by the head chef, for lunch. Sometimes, his little entourage- aka Dylan, Ashley, and lesser times Spencer lately- would occasionally jump in whenever they can to get in on the ‘fun’, much to my annoyance and dismay. In fact, his son and soon-to-be new wife were both watching now from the dining table. Enjoying every bit of my silent suffering.
“I had told you plenty of times already! Ashley can’t handle hot stuff! And yet, what the hell do you think you’re feeding her?! You’re having fun mocking her for her frail state, aren’t you? The state you put her in!” Duncan demanded.
I glared at him, having it up to here with his immaturi
