recently cleaned. A long row of cleaning products, anti-bacterial wipes and anti-bacterial sprays were the only flashes of color in the entire place. Bottles of blue, pink, orange and green were the only things that looked alive around here. How ironic that the only living-looking things were the things designed to kill.
“You’re neat,” Noah commented.
“Apparently,” I mumbled.
“I . . . would never have guessed,” he said quietly.
“Me neither.” Noah was staring at the cleaning products, and I could see he was trying to reconcile these things with the person in front of him. Hell, I was. Up until ten minutes ago I was sure I was the girl that left the lid off the toothpaste and a dirty dish or two in the sink. I made a mess in the kitchen when I tried to cook. That was me, not this . . .
I picked up one of the bottles of disinfectant. “Kills 99% of all known bacteria and germs.” I put it back down on the countertop and walked over to the fridge, wondering what surprises would greet me there. I was expecting spices and chilis, coffee, chocolate and Coke and all those things that burst with flavor that I knew I loved. But there was nothing in the fridge other than a row of neat water bottles. One carton of soy milk, seven green apples and half a bag of sugar-free gummies. I opened the freezer and there, to my absolute surprise, were rows and rows of neatly stacked ready meals. I pulled one out and looked at it. Chicken breast. Brown rice. Broccoli. Organic, antibiotic free, allergen free, Non-GMO and dairy-free. I turned the box over and read the ingredients; there were no spices in this whatsoever. Nothing to give this plain lump of chicken meat and veg any flavor whatsoever. I reached in and took out another frozen meal . . . chicken. I took out another one, chicken again. And another one . . . also chicken!
“This is all I eat?” It was a question that I was posing to myself. To a myself that I didn’t know at all. “Is this what I eat every single day?” This looked like the blandest meal on the planet. This looked like, if someone had to deliberately go out of their way and intentionally try to create the world’s most tasteless meal, this would be it. And I ate it. And clearly I ate a lot of it.
I dropped the frozen boxes on the counter. They hit it with a loud bang. One dropped to the floor and I kicked it out the way with my foot, a spark of anger igniting in me. I grabbed at the other kitchen cupboards and started flinging them open. Two boxes of All Bran Flakes—that was it. I opened another cupboard and found four sugar-free protein bars. Vanilla flavor.
“What’s . . . what’s . . . how . . .” I stuttered, and slammed the kitchen cupboards and rushed out of the kitchen to the door I’d seen at the other end of the lounge. I opened it, flicked the lights on and as soon as it was all illuminated my fears were yet again confirmed and a terrible feeling started growing deep inside my belly.
CHAPTER 32
Beige. White. Only a bed. Single bed. One pillow. A side table with a bottle of disinfectant spray. I scanned the walls again for something, anything, that told me there was life here. That anyone with any kind of life had once been here. But the walls were as dead and cold as a mortician’s slab. I walked inside and pushed open the door to the en suite bathroom. And once again, I walked into a white tomb. This was a place where people came to die. Where personalities came to die. This place was like a vortex that sucked life out of things. I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. This colorful thing reflected back at me in this clinical room. The two pictures side by side like this were a complete oxymoron.
That feeling in my belly grew . . .
The colorful version of myself had no place here. The version Andi had told me about, and I was convinced I was. It didn’t belong here. It couldn’t belong here. I couldn’t belong here. I caught Noah looking at me in the mirror. He had a look smeared across his face. The look was hard to truly understand. It seemed to be