Dr. Johnson exhausted himself and finally the punishment was over. I crawled off the doctor’s lap and jumped into Master’s arms. He held me and sh...shed me until my tears abated and then stopped. “What are you doing here, Master?” I asked. “You were sick, so I came home to take care of you,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Clean your face and I will do exactly that. He spoke to Dr. Johnson. “Okay if I use the room, Doc?” “Take as long as you need,” the doctor said. I washed my tears away and turned. Maybe even find an archenemy to engage in witty banter and extended monologues with. You know what I mean.Next year I guess.I stop walking and a small, strong hand yanks me along.Annabelle gives me a withering look of annoyance that bellies the Disney softness of her name. She’s not the type for self-pity. Or really any emotion that isn’t unbridled rage, disinterest, or the melding of the two. Makes her skin crawl. And if I’m being honest (and I rarely am) she’s also not the type for. More

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