@godsrequiem
Tomas's fingers were tight around her hand, her own fingers pinking from his grip. She bit the inside of her lip to keep back a wince. Their shoes went clop clop clop clop on the stairs, like the hooves of the horses that pulled the funny looking cars through Paris. She'd wanted to pet them, had tried, but Tomas said no and stop and we-don't-have-time-for-this-foolishness,
The door opened, and they stepped into the house. Once inside, she sat on the floor at Tomas's feet, head down and hands buried in the thick strands of the old brownish orange carpet. She had wanted to come to meet the others. Had asked. Begged. Whined. Finally he had agreed to bring her to meet them.
He'd warned her to be on her best behavior, his voice hard, stern, loud, hand tight on her chin, as he held her head up, making her look at him as he spoke, finger pointing at her, shaking with each word he said. She was to-be-quiet. Be-respectful. Be-polite. Be-still.
She was-not-to-fidget. Not-to-pick-at-things. Not-to-touch-anything. Unless-they-give-you-permission. Otherwise--and he'd smacked her hand, hard, the threat of her punishment needing no further explanation. He'd asked if she'd understood, and she'd nodded, but he'd made her say it, tell him that she'd understood, repeat back to him what she was and wasn't supposed to do. When she had, he'd dropped her hand, let her go back to her drawing.
Now, curled up on the floor, she winced as Tomas's hand fell on her shoulder. Squeezing. Biting. Reminding. She snatched her hands out of the carpet, resting them on her knees, shoulders hunched. Would he hit her? In front of all these people? Her cheeks got hot thinking about it. But Tomas only patted her shoulder and dropped his hand. She clasped her fingers together to keep from petting the carpet again. One warning was probably sll she'd get.
Their conversation buzzed like flies around her ears and she chewed her lip. Why had she wanted to come? There was no one for her to talk to. She couldn't ask what they were talking about. There was nothing to eat--and she could feel her stomach starting to growl. Nothing to play with. Nothing to do but sit and try not to feel Tomas staring at her, his eyes almost burning holes into her back.