From the moment I was brought to Daddy's world, I ate things no one my age ate. Even as a small child, I knew instinctively that I was different and was living differently. Occasionally, I would ask why or complain, but in the end, I always did what I was told, and when something was given to me that I didn't like, Mrs. Fennel fixed it so I would like it.
"What does she put in our food?" I once asked Ava.
"Blood," she said.
"Whose blood? Cow's blood?"
She simply looked at me and walked away. I wondered, of course, if she had been teasing me, but I wouldn't dare ask Mrs. Fennel. I thought about asking Daddy, but then I worried that he would be angry at Ava for telling me that, and then she would be angry at me. It wasn't pleasant having Ava angry at me. It was a bit frightening. It was like having a ringing in your ears and a drill buzzing away just under your heart.
