Ju was still strolling through the first floor of the residence she woke up in this morning. It was incredibly, mind-bogglingly big, especially for someone who had never seen another home than the one they had grown up in. When her eyes even got tired of all those new sensations, all those objects, rooms and things she had never seen, Ju resorted to using more of her other senses, letting her fingers guide her through the house.
The kitchen looked so very different from the Xiang’s kitchen in their cottage in England. Copper and stone reigned the room back home, the kitchen in the facility looked more like a spaceship bridge than anything else. There was a screen on the fridge they could write on if they wanted anything, they said - anything! Unbelievable.
The counter tops were cold and shiny, there were fruits propped up to grab that Ju had never even seen before. Then there were all these cupboards, filled with all sorts of odd plates, odd cuttlery. There were so many varieties of everything - spoons, forks, knives.
Of course they had had different knives for different uses at home - but no more than three. A butter knife, a sharp one, a bread knife. When Ju pulled open the drawer, tons of different shapes and sizes looked back at her. Huge square ones, oddly curved ones, ones that were split at their tip. Mesmerized, Ju took the latter out into her hand, furrowing her brows trying to think of uses for this seeming child of a two-toothed fork and a knife.
The pain came to her faster than the realisation that Ju had run her left index finger along the knife’s blade. Shocked, the woman dropped the knife right back into the drawer and looked at her now bleeding finger. Her breath came rough. She hadn’t cut herself in ages - her mother always cooked for them at home. It stung. She needed a band-aid. Panicked, she looked around the room and her gaze stopped when she saw a dark-haired girl. Turning her hand, she showed the girl her finger.
“I’m bleeding...!”
