It was one of those days where Jack had to work his shop and he didn't want me coming with him. Something about straining myself was what he said. Of course he doesn't trust me alone, so he left me with Edna on "watch the blind boy" duty. A duty where someone takes a day off from work to make sure I don't burn the house down. Uh... somehow.

Every time I'm with one of the others, I always remember their memories unconsciously. There wasn't much from Jack since he didn't have as much as the others that weren't shared with me, him being adopted by my family and all. Honestly, I was the most comfortable with Edna's memories.

Heartha was her real name. A name from her mother, rest her soul. I recalled Taron, her father, telling her about her mother's final request to give her daughter that name. Taron was a soft soul, so I would imagine how hard it must've been to lose your wife while she was giving birth.

"Jacob, dear. I made you some cookies. Would you like them?"

It's funny. She acts like the mother she almost had. And by funny, I mean sad.

"Yes, please. Do you think you can continue teaching me how to knit later?" I gave her the best smile I could.

"Of course, dearie! I'm so glad you've taken such an interest in knitting." She seemed so happy. It always comforted me when she was happy.

It kinda brings in some foggy memories that aren't of us. I don't really know where these memories came from, but the clearest I can get is of a woman that is the same species as Edna, but she was... well, I guess different in an odd way.

Although this woman was different, she reminded me so much like Edna. This kinda bothered me how they were so different, but so oddly similar.

I don't know. The one thing that really stood out to me was the fact that this other woman and Edna were both seen as someone everyone else confided with very often, except this other woman was less like a mother and more like a guidance counselor of sorts.

"Dearie, are you alright? You're spacing out a tad." Edna was patting my shoulder, trying to get my attention.

"Uh? Oh. Sorry, I was just daydreaming, I think..." gave her a nervous laugh. Yeah... daydreaming. I'll go with that.

"Alright, dearie." She patted my head gently and went back to... well, whatever it was that she was doing. I didn't see.

Haha... see. Good one, me. Ugh. I hate myself more than anything in the world.

"Dearie, are you sure you're alright? You look a little pale... dear me, you aren't getting sick, are you?" She placed a gentle hand on my face. As gentle as a hand with a wood shell gets, anyway.

"Dearie, I'm going to have to take you back to bed." She placed a hand on my shoulder.

I brushed her hand off, and moved away from her direction. "I'm fine, Edna. Honest."

She placed a finger over my lips, signaling me to be quiet. "Shoosh! Not another word. Jack had told me about your little fit yesterday, and we don't want you to strain yourself." She grabbed my arm and led me back to bed, careful of our surroundings.

I hate it when they do that. I don't want people to take care of me. I don't even want to be here. I don't want to. I don't want to. I don't want to.

I was in bed before I realized it.

"Now you stay here and rest. I'll get you some soup. "

I buried my face into my pillow. I'm a tool, not a child. I don't need this kind of care. I'm just a tool.

I yelled in pain when I felt a sharp pang in my head. This again?

"Jacob, dearie. Are you alright in there? " Edna called from the other room. I pushed myself up to sit upright and called back "Y-yeah! I'm fine!" That wasn't believable enough. I sounded like a frog climbed into my throat and died.

"Are you sure, dearie? You sound quite ill? "

"Yeah, I'm fine! I just... need a nap! Haha." I sunk into the blankets and pulled them over my head. I thought of a pleasant memory of Edna and her father.

"Can you sing the song, papa?" She'd ask.

"Of course, my little daisy." He would give her a warm smile, and tuck her in. He had a sweet voice and it never failed to make me tired when I thought of it. He was a great father to her.

I heard the door creek open. I pretended to be out cold.

Pat, pat, pat.

A gentle, wooden hand pet my head, moving some hair and feathers out of the way. A pair of warm lips touched my forehead, sending a wave of comfort through me.

Pat, pat, pat.

The door creaked closed. I turned to my side, and felt the ends of my lips stretch out into, what I imagine to be, a faint smile.

You know, the apple really doesn't fall far from the tree.