Christian & Blakesley Snr
Isaac Blakesley made his way toward the room Christian occupied silently, so as not to awaken his son. In his hands he held a bowl and a glass.
As he came to the door, he set them down so he could undo the bolts. He did so, picked them up again, and made his way into the room.
Christian stirred slightly, his eyes opening slowly and silently. When he saw who it was, he looked away.
"Good morning young Christian," came his sinister voice as he made his way over to the stainless steel table.
He placed the bowl down, and took the glass over to Christian. He gently clasped his hand into Christian's hair and tilted his head back, as he held the glass to his lips. Christian drank the water as fast as it was poured, to save itching his neck if it was spilled.
When Blakesley's father pulled it away, he gulped. He knew this was just to keep him alive.
"Kaleb likes you, you know," Christian watched as he took the glass over to the table and grabbed the bowl instead.
He brought it over and put some of the cereal onto the spoon which he then directed to Christian's mouth.
"Personally I think he can relate to you in a way," the old man tilted his head slightly, studying Christian's face as he ate.
Christian kept his eyes turned away as he was fed. Isaac Blakesley sighed slightly.
"Kaleb is still young, but that also means he has a lot to look forward to. I don't have that satisfaction. But it is good to see Kaleb enjoying himself."
Christian just grunted a little as he ate, until the old man stopped. He stood still for a moment just staring at Christian, before going back to the table and putting the bowl down. He stared at the table for a moment, before making his way over to the cupboard.
Christian sighed a little, tilting his head back. Now he was going to feel sick because he'd eaten after a few days of nothing.
Blakesley's father opened the cupboard and ran his fingers down the side of the door looking slightly awed. He selected a slender dagger with a decorative blade, then closed the cupboard, studied it, and made his way over to Christian.
He stood in front of him for a moment, as Christian dropped his head. The old man held the tip of the dagger at the base of Christian's chin, and made him look up slightly.
"You're a very... lonely person," he tilted his head slightly, the tip of the blade beginning to trace down the centre of Christian's neck without cutting it.
"You live your life trying so hard not to be anyone else, but without finding yourself in the process. Do you know who you are? Do you know why you exist?"
Christian flinched a little as he began to cut small circles into the base of Christian's neck.
"My father-figure is a master of mind games. Your words mean $#!+ to me," he sneered.
"But do they?" the old man raised his eyebrows, "after all... it's all you have to listen to now..."
He finished what he was doing, then went to retrieve the glass again. He let Christian drink the rest of the water, then bid him farewell.
Upon leaving the room, he took the dishes to the kitchen and placed them in the sink, then went to sit in front of the TV again. He lifted the knife into his hands and studied it again staring at the bloodied edges.