That made me even more uncomfortable.
“Jason, I already told you I was sick. I didn't do anything wrong by going to the kitchen for a few minutes.”
His eyes remained fixed on me.
I could feel my pulse beginning to race. There was something different about him tonight.
He wasn't listening to me the way he usually did. He wasn't softening because I was upset. He wasn't even arguing with me.
He was watching me.
Studying me.
Then he spoke.
“What did you put in the food?”
For a second, I couldn't process the question.
I stared at him.
“What?” He couldn't have found out about it, right?
“You heard me. What did you put in the food?”
I felt anger rise immediately, giving me something to hold on to when fear threatened to show on my face.
“What are you talking about?” My voice came ou
