"Come to papa, baby," he said, reverently picking up a small glass bottle of green liquid and a shiny syringe.
"You're not my daddy!" Amanda said from immediately behind him, making him leap into the air. For a heart-stopping moment the vial was out of his hands, floating over the hard tile floor before he reached out with one disproportionately large hand to snatch it from certain doom.
"Goddammit Amy, lie down!" he yelled at her.
"Don't call me Amy! I... Who are you?" she asked, frowning at him. Then she laughed. "A midget!"
Darren growled, towing the laughing girl towards the bed again. Every few feet she'd stop, then she'd laugh and cry out, "Midget!"
This time Darren just shoved her face-first onto the bed, leaving her kneeling at the side of the bed. Perfect height for what he had to do and it left her face in the mattress, shutting her up.
"Pft," was all she said, spitting out the silk sheets. "Ooh, silk!" she muttered, words muffled. It never occurred to her to lift her face.
Trying not to grind his teeth - his dentist had warned him repeatedly about that and it was getting expensive - Darren took off the safety cap of the syringe, cleared the air from it, and impaled it in the vial of green liquid, drawing up just a little.
Carefully putting the vial away he turned to the bed with a dark grin. "Now Amy, let's give you your medicine."
"'m not sick! 'm not Amy! 'm... pft!"
Comments