Chapter Twenty Two: Birthday (1)

Johnathan Riggs looked Waylon's school work up and down, assessing where he stood intellectually. He feared handing the boy's education to the public sector would hinder his development. However, it seemed as if his worries had been unfounded. 

Out of the four assignments he had assigned, as per instructed. Only one of them had left an unsatisfactory taste in his mouth. It seemed his knowledge of mathematics had not deviated from the charted course, nor his wide array database of classic literature. Maintaining a suitable level of comprehension required of a child residing in the estate. 

The String family would have his head if the children had fallen stupid under his care. Though truth be told, he could still very well lose it. The twins hadn't been known for their passion for academics, preferring the avenues of music instead. Especially a certain child who would rather play the drums than be intellectually sound. 

A small sigh leaves the caretaker's lips, picturing the source of all his problems. Everything from her unparalleled ability to the nonsense she produced. Someone had to be heterosexual in this house and from the looks of it, it won't be Waylon. Somehow between being possessed and following the itinerary, he had developed some odd interests.

Due to Xavier's inability to keep a collected level of sanity around the boy, he might have to wrangle Chesslynn into this circus of a plan to keep things on its predetermined course. Causing Waylon's sheer audacity to theoretically diminish, and Xavier to be forcibly dismissed. For, the twins shall focus on each other instead of romance.

Chesslynn's involvement had it's own negative effects as well. Self-evident in the quality of writing in the letter addressed to her. How could Waylon write something so bad? Shouldn't a sibling desire to impress the other?

Looking up at Waylon, who still diligently wrote to the sound of the clock's hounding ticks, the caretaker's expression relaxed a little. As every pen stroke still aligned to each Tick and Toc. 

Sensing his probing gaze, Waylon looked up from his writing. His almond-colored eyes flickered around momentarily.

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?" Waylon asks softly, casting a spell of silence over the ticking room. Halting any smidge of movement, firmly in its tracks.

"Stepping out of line won't do you many favors, young master." 

Surprised by the caretaker's many words, Waylon's attention peaked. He might actually get some answers out of this man for once.

"If I had returned here last night, would I still have witnessed all those things?" 

"Eventually." He admits, reaching toward Waylon. His cold hands brushing against his warm skin, as he snatched the paper away from him for grading.

"Then what's the point?" He asks, his almond-colored eyes flashing red. 

knock knock knock

Waylon shuts his mouth, as a dizzy spell has been cast upon him. Knocking the boy unconscious at the table. Unable to do so much as defend himself. Waylon's light brown hair messily sprawled out over the books in front of him.

Frowning immensely, the caretaker looks to the knocking door. Feeling the sense of foreboding enter his old, aching bones. His heart began to increase, as the soft sound of howls echoed in his ears. 

Outside, there is no wind. Only the residents, quickly make their way outside. Their brows lifted and face stiff. 

A gust of wind crashes against the door, blowing it open. It's unforgiving gusts, hitting their faces. Revealing the unsightly colors within them.

***

"Are you punishing him? It's too soon for this!" Linsey shouts, her eyes glowing a hypnotic blue. 

The String family looks at the girl, with the corners of their blue lips turned upward in amusement.

"He yearned for rebellion, Linsey dear." 

Linsey glared at the woman, opening her mouth so that her monstrous fangs are visible.

"Will I be punished if I were to yearn for rebellion?" Linsey asks calmly, digging her heels into the blue meeting room floor.

"Do you identify as part of the String family?" The woman asks calmly, eying the almost full table.

"If Xavier were to identify with the String family, would you stop punishing him?" Responds Linsey, already knowing the answer.

"You are the daughter-in-law we picked out, no matter which member you marry. Xavier is merely someone our son left behind. Linsey dear, do you identify as part of our String family?"

"My name is Linsey String of Asha. I align myself with W.S. head of the String family." Linsey announces, boldly. With that, Linsey left the room. Ashamed of the way she just acted. Quickly realizing just what had come over her.

She needs to keep it together for the birthday party.

***

The caretaker holds the sleeping boy in his arms. Pushing himself up against the wall, as the harsh wind gusts press up against them. Household debris cut up against their faces, bloodying up their already chilled bodies.

The caretaker knew he wasn't going to die from this, but he also knew full well this was punishing him more than Waylon. 

It would be amazing if you woke up, thought the caretaker. Digging his crinkly old fingers into his light brown hair in need of trimming. While covering his forehead in hope that he didn't get a amnesia inducing head injury. 

An hour passed before the wind finally relented. Leaving a torn-up room, and an old man cradling a sleeping teenager within his arms, doing his upmost to protect him.

Linsey peaked into the room, taken aback by what she saw. A beaten down old man, holding Waylon as if he was a small child in need of protecting. 

Linsey didn't understand. This was Waylon's punishment to bare, he could have just run outside like the rest. But he had chose to stay and protect him. Why protect someone you're actively plotting against? 

The smell of the caretaker's ancient blood overpowered the room, as it had been spilled all over the broken furniture. Pieces of clocks lay lifelessly at their feet, while glass lamp shards imbedded themselves into his yellow skin. 

The caretaker didn't say anything in regard to her presence, presumingly too occupied by the yellow spillage in the west wing to deal with her. 

It was best not to meddle. It wasn't her place to meddle in the affairs of the twins. Not right now anyway.

Linsey left the west wing, spelling her clothes into a fancy blue ensemble. Sensing the silver haired man's presence. It appears he too, hadn't left the building.

For a man who prided himself over his good looks, it had been an odd sight to see him so disheveled. His long silver hair half out of its ponytail, standing upright. His figuring hugging clothes ripped and torn from the various debris. It gave off the illusion he had been abandoned.

Xavier's face did not have a mocking smile, like one would initially assume. He had always wanted Waylon to be punished by the estate, it brought him great annoyance that an amnesiac would have such unconditional favoritism. But, not in this way. 

What use is a punishment if he can't even remember it?

Xavier made his way to the west wing doorway, wishing he could take a step past those hinges.

Xavier watched as the caretaker opened Waylon's pink lips, spreading his teeth apart which hadn't even begun to sprout fangs. Placing his own wrist inside.