Chapter 33

Lysander's Point of View

Mother was in the kitchen again. Cooked all of my dad's favorite meals. Along with my own. Pastries and bread. Singing a lullaby she had sung to me since the day I was born. Her head bobbed up and down as she mixed what I could only assume was soda bread. Every inch of the counter space was filled. Flour was strewn everywhere.

She always did this when something bothered her. Like the weather or how G. R. R. Martin hasn't released the rest of some series she loved. Food had always been a comfort to her. But to the rest of our household, it only spelled disaster for the rest of the day.

I tried my best to stay as quiet as possible when I entered the kitchen. Stole one of the already baked loaves off of her counter. But this woman had always had a sixth sense. Knew exactly when I was causing shit. 

Ma whirled on me, eyes wide and a wooden spoon raised. I backed up slightly. Caught red-handed with the lo