My father always told me I should have ended up in an orphanage or in a cuckoo house.
Who thought I would end up in a white cushioned room after all?
I think he would laugh if he could see me now.
No... he wouldn’t.
He would just cross his arms and tilt his chin upwards
"What a disgrace. Your mother should have swallowed you"
Or something like that.
It’s annoying that I can hear his voice in the back of my mind like that.
I mean—sure, being locked up by your childhood best friend you almost killed and a psychopath who wants to skin you alive if you get a hard-on is bad. It’s bad. Really bad. It’s atrocious. But hearing your father lecturing you on top of that?
Cutthroat experience, I swear.
I think I’ve been here for days. I can’t really say
I don’t have windows.
Or clocks.
Or anything to tell me that time passes.
Just Emiliano giving me food, getting my blood test, questioning me about things.
I don’t eat or respond. And I put up a fight every time he canes close with that damn needle.
Claus stands behind him sometimes. I try to talk. He never looks at me. Emiliano, of course, watches it like he’s training a dog. His little b--ch, wagging on command.
I’m hungry. Good thing I was in my bulking season before the whole kidnapping thing.
I barely have the trust to drink the water he gives me.
Can you blame me?
I passed out almost every time I do.
But I can’t just die of dehydration.
Can you imagine my father’s reaction?
Sheesh.
No privacy in here.
I know he’s watching.
God, how pathetic does your life have to be to spend your days spying on someone bed-rotting?
I’ve seen Facebook shorts more interesting and that is something!
Emiliano brings me gifts sometimes.
He sometimes comes and shares stories.
He had me fooled in the first days, I might say. Really thought he was just too poor for therapy and didn’t have any friends to confess too.
But then he laughed- like a real laugh.
The kind that spell out " I can’t believe you bought my bullshit stories" kind of laugh.
Whatever.
I throw the gifts at him.
That’s like the only fun thing I do.
Today he came alone.
"Got used to your room, huh? Good, good. It will fasten the research if you feel safe."
"Well, my eyes still burn, cuz you painted the room snow white. Ever heard of eggshell white?"
"I see you still haven’t eaten yet. The hunger will convince you eventually. You’re missing out. I’m an excellent cook"
He’s ignoring me.
"Let me guess- your favourite recipes are sleep inducing pills on toast or scrambled tranquilizer eggs with avocado chips"
"I actually like pancakes.", he said innocently.
"So you’re a psychopath with a sweet tooth. Noted"
He smirked.
That smile again.
Too white.
Too practiced.
Too pleased with himself.
Full lips colored like someone just bit them. Maybe someone did.
Whatever.
"Psychopath is such a mediocre term. Try to level up your vocabulary, honey. After all, you’re the son of the Prime Minister"
Ugh, my dad.
Even in here, I’m supposed to make my dad proud? Unbelievable!
I can’t never catch a break, I swear.
He sat on a chair in front of me. Started to eat the bowl of soup he brought me earlier. Slowly.
"Maybe I spit in it"
"I’ll count that as an indirect kiss then. Since we’ve been robbed by a real one about a week ago"
"It’s been already a week?"
I looked at him in horror.
I am here for a week and nobody came looking?
I know my dad doesn’t like me, but I’m a liability for his career. He should be here by now.
Emiliano smirked.
Like he always did when he dropped hints. Like I am a joke.
A fish eager to catch any bait- no matter how f--king indigestible.
"Maybe. I lost count. I’ve been in the lab so much these days, I forget to eat"
"So you eat my food"
"You threw the croutons at my head. You almost threw the soup too. It was very warm, I might add, so it could have hurt me."
If you were to hear this man from outside the room, without knowing who he is, you would have took me for a monster.
How does a mad Frankenstein type of scientist sounds so affected over a soup?
"You eat better at home?" he ask faking bare human decency .
"I eat better when I’m not kidnapped and thrown in a cage."
"But I decorated it so nicely for you."
He sighed dramatically.
"You don’t sleep very well at night. Night terrors?"
"Watching me when I sleep? Creep!"
"I can have you some pills for that. Or we can talk. The more you’re stubborn, the more you’ll stay here"
"For the moment, the only way to get out of here is cut open for your collection so I’m good for the moment"
"Do you think I’m attractive, Luther?" he cut me off.
What?
"Want me to strike the ego of my kidnapper now?"
"Am I suitable for your taste?"
I won’t answer that.
I don’t understand what is happening.
He leans in. He smells like spices because of the soup. It’s annoying how comforting that feels.
"Do you prefer Claus?"
"What kind of f--ked up questions are those?"
"I’m about to start a new research, Luther. So pick your poison, cuz we’re about to do some exploring"