I changed the title of last chapter as it didn't fit it.

Error's POV

I pulled my car into the driveway with the police car parking next to me. I quickly got out and walked over to the other vehicle. I saw Ink's silhouette sitting in the back.

The officer stepped out, approaching the door. Once it was opened, I saw Ink staring at the floorboard with a blank stare. He looked up at me before sliding out of the seat.

I thanked the officer and watched them pull out onto the road. A bark dragged mine and Ink's attention to the front door of my house.

Molly stood there, tail wagging, as she waited for me to unlock it. I dug for my keys in her backpack and eventually felt the cold metal keychain.

As soon as I unlocked the door, Molly trotted in. I turned around and saw that Ink was looking out at the street. I called out his name which sadly made him flinch.

Ink entered the house and stopped in the middle of the living room.

His behavior was jittery but it wasn't caused by me but rather my home. He didn't seem to agree with the sudden change in scenery. I guess he had gotten used the hospital.

I quietly sighed to myself as I closed the door behind me. There had to be something that I could do to make him feel comfortable.

'I'll show him his bedroom after he adjusts. For right now, I should keep an eye on him just in case he doesn't do anything.'

I thought to myself as I walked into the kitchen. It was around the time that I needed to start cooking.

  My hand grasped the fridge handle, pulling it open to see what I had available to cook. Once observing for a small second, I gathered ingredients to make a stew.

After placing a pot and a pan on the stove, I clicked on the burner. Then I slit open a package of chicken to cut up.

  The house was silent as I divided the raw meat into chunks before placing them on a frying pan. The sound of the meat on oil soon filled the kitchen walls.

  I stood still for a second before turning to continue cooking. However, I suddenly stopped when I saw Ink standing in front of me. I flinched and let out a small scream of shock.

  Ink stared up at me without speaking. It seems that sounds from the cooking meat drew his attention.

Me: Hey Ink. I didn't know you were standing there. Are you here because of the noise?

  I questioned as I motioned towards the stove. He nodded before stepping back.

Me: Do you want to help?

  He was silent for a second but eventually nodded. I quickly thought out things in my head.

'I should have him work with things that can't harm him. No knifes or heat.'

I picked up a carton of broth and slowly handed it to him. He read the label before twisting the cap off. I went for a measuring cup and told him how much I needed.

  We silently cooked together with me occasionally speaking to give the next instructions. The finale thing that I needed to make was dumplings. It wouldn't be difficult, just torn up pieces of biscuits from a can.

  I grabbed a small can from the fridge door and carried it back to the counter. Ink watched me intently from behind.

  The biscuits required me to pop it open which was either extremely easy or extremely hard.

  After working with it for a few minutes, I finally popped it open. However, I heard a noise behind me.

  I quickly turned around and saw that Ink had crumbled to the floor into a curled up ball. He was hiding his head with his hands and was shaking intensely. I realized that the popping sound was similar to a gun in Ink's perspective.

  Setting the can on the counter, I kneeled down in front of him and gently placed my hands on his arms. Ink tensed up and began to shake more.

Me: Hey Ink. It's okay. You're not in danger. There is no gun to hurt you.

  I whispered quietly but loud enough for him to hear through his heavy breathing. He looked up at me, fear in his once emotionless eyes and tears pouring from them.

  I pulled my hands away but kept myself kneeling in front of him, despite it being somewhat uncomfortable on my prosthetic. That didn't matter to me at the moment as I needed to calm Ink down.

  There was silence between us as I let Ink slowly breathe for a few minutes. He was no longer scared with the help from me, only the last tears remained falling from his chin.

Me: Are you okay?

  I knew I asked Ink this question often but it was necessary for me to know how he was feeling at all times.

Me: Do you need some time on the floor?

  Ink nodded while staring at the tiled ground beneath him. I stood up and went back to the can of biscuits.

  My hands opened it as silently as possible before taking pieces from the dough and dropping them in the stew.

  I waited for ten minutes when the food was finally done. I went for the bowls that I kept in the cabinet, pulling out two for the both of us.

  Once both the ceramic bowls were filled, I sat on the floor next to Ink and handed one to him along with a spoon.

  He tranced the utensil around the brim before taking his first bite. There were no words spoken as we ate the stew. Ink didn't eat much but...

I'm glad he's eating something at least