Deaged Malcolm Bright

Chapter 2

General POV

The following days were kinda rough. Not only did Malcolm wake up and wanted to go home, Martin had to figure out the perfect cover story. He needed a new name, a new face, and literally a new life all together.

Malcolm is currently tied to a chair in the center of the motel room while Martin paces back and forth. He was mumbling to himself over and over again. He was talking to himself and working through the scattered thoughts running wild in his brain.

Malcolm just had to watch his father unravel in front of him. He was going crazy in front of his own eyes. Malcolm can see the look of someone having a psychotic break.

"Dr. Whitly," Malcolm called out. He gained no response.

"Dr. Whitly!"

Again there was no response from the older man. He just continued to pace back and forth.

"My son... he needs me. My boy. My child. No. No! No! She has my son! I have to help him! She can't raise him! It's my job!!"

At this point, Martin was shouting. He has the knife he took from the facility raised up to his head as he held it and paced. His breathing was very erratic.

Malcolm has talked down a lot of psychotic killers before but this was a new level. He doesn't know where to even begin with his own father.

"Dad...," Malcolm called out very softly. When that gained no response, he called out even louder.

"Dad! Please!"

This seemed to snap the oldest Whitly out of his crazed thoughts. He turned to his wide eyes son and looked at his hand with the knife.

"Oh, my boy! I'm sorry if I've freaked you out. Daddy didn't mean it. He's just a little stressed but don't you worry, I have everything under control."

As he said this, his voice changed to mimic someone talking to a toddler. He approached his son and places the knife in his waist band. He then stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a cloth and and vial.

"See this here? This is what is going to bring us closer. I can be the father you always wanted."

Martin held up the vial and shook the contents around in the bottle. He then put that back in his pocket and held the cloth in a better hold.

"I just have to figure a few things out first. This will help you sleep. Don't worry, I'll be back soon," Martin said as he places the cloth on his struggling son's face and held it there. The chloroform did it's job as Malcolm slipped off to sleep.

Once Martin ensured he was out and checked the restraints, he started putting his plan in motion as he walked out of the motel door.

*just so y'all know, my autocorrect with not take the spelling of Martin properly. It keeps changing it to Martian and I don't know why. Hopefully I've fixed it.*