(From Blue's Perspective)
"Do you need… my help?" I asked as I sat in the kitchen while Dem was baking a cake.
The kitchen was downstairs. Dem had not taken the chains off yet, but he added a longer one so I could go downstairs and walk around the mansion. The chain was way too long I had to admit.
I was a bit disappointed when he still did not free my hands and legs after fifteen days passed since I had woken up after getting back to Dem. Although I was a little appointed, I had not given up. His problem was a psychological disorder. Max always told me that mental illness should be hated, not the victims and they needed help.
