From then on, every day follows a similar routine. Your mother takes out a small vial filled with an off-white, gooey substance that's as thick as honey but smells like sweat mixed with salty sea air. It's warm to the touch, steam rising from it like a freshly prepared meal. This is your medicine, she explains, her voice trembling slightly.
You don't like it - not one bit. The taste is horrible, leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth that lingers long after you've swallowed it down. But your mother insists that this is necessary for you to grow big and strong again. She feeds you the medicine tirelessly, day after day, her movements growing more urgent as time passes.
Each feeding session seems to trigger something strange within your mother - a kind of shyness or nervousness that's unlike her usual confident demeanor. It starts with her blushing when she looks at you, but then escalates into moments where she trembles slightly before scooping up another spoonful of the medicine. The way she speaks becomes softer, more hushed, as if she's trying not to wake a sleeping giant.
At first, these changes seem insignificant - just your mother being overly caring in her own unique way. But over time, you start to notice that they're becoming more pronounced. Your mother spends more and more of her free time feeding you the medicine, her eyes darting away whenever she catches sight of herself in a mirror.
As for yourself, all you can do is follow orders and try not to gag on the revolting concoction she forces down your throat. The medicine takes up a significant portion of your daily routine - hours spent swallowing spoonful after spoonful while your mother watches over you with an intensity that's both protective and slightly unnerving.
The oracle had warned her about this part: it might take months before any noticeable changes occur, but your mother is undeterred. She feeds you the medicine tirelessly, her love for you never wavering despite the challenges they're facing together. Despite everything else happening around them, she remains steadfast in her determination to help restore you back to normal.
Yet, even as you continue on this path towards recovery, there's something that doesn't sit right with you - a nagging feeling of unease about these changes in your mother. Is it the way she looks at herself in mirrors? The growing frequency and intensity of her blushing? Or perhaps the strange, almost desperate way she feeds you each spoonful of medicine?
Whatever it is, one thing remains certain: this journey is far from over. With each passing day, your body grows slightly larger, but not like it should. It seems like you are just stretching, but maybe it’s just all in your mind. Your mother's behavior becomes increasingly erratic. There seems to be something more going on beneath the surface - a secret that only she knows about and won't share with you.
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