Misc.

prodigal son 5

Everything was hazy and incoherent and the following week and a half passed agonizingly slow, like running through a thick mud. 

He kept the boy chained in the basement, bringing him food once a day. Any inkling of the Martin Whitly Teddy had known before, the kind father who cared for his kids, was gone, vanished. Teddy realized he hadn't ever existed outside of being in the presence of other people. They'd all been lied to. They were all being lied to. 

His clothes had been switched out for an old t-shirt that was too big on the boy, and his briefs. He was cold, and hungry, and scared. It was always dark, the only light he got being that faint blue glow that came from overhead, just bright enough to see the next terrible thing Martin was going to do to him. There were track marks on his arms from where The Surgeon had injected him with a various amount of substances, none of which Teddy knew what they were, all of which caused him some type of pain, even if it wasn't always physical.

Very quickly he became conditioned to attached the sound of the door opening with the medical torture that followed soon after, the heavy steps of Dr. Whitly falling into the room. Being helped up to stand, and brought over to the cursed chair in the center of the room. At first, Teddy had fought back, whimpering and pulling against The Surgeon's hold. He got a broken wrist in return and a hand clamped over his mouth to muffle his pained screams. Teddy cried, drifting off, hoping that it could be permanent this time, for waking up surely meant returning to this hellish nightmare of new reality. 

~~~

The door opened. 

"There's a kid in here!" someone shouted.

Light from the hallway spilled into the room.

Teddy squinted.

It had been a while since he'd seen regular lighting. 

He curled up against the wall, flinching as an officer rushed towards him, going to take the chains off of his hands. 

Teddy's hair was unkempt and messy, patches of dried blood all over his arms and legs. He was shaking, hearing commotion upstairs, a voice he recognized to be Jessica's saying "get him out of here". 

He didn't remember much.

He remembered sitting in an ambulance driving to the hospital, a heavy blanket wrapped around him.

He remembered reuniting with his parents later in the evening, and falling asleep on the drive home.

He remembered opening the front door two days later, wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts, his arm in a bright lime green cast, his hair finally washed and clean and himself well-rested, to find Jessica Whitly standing on his doorstep.

Teddy stood for a moment, frowning a little. He didn't know what to do.

Neither did Jessica.

"Hi." he said.

"Hello dear." 

"Do you need something?"

She was quiet for a very long time, pain played across her face.

"No, no nothing. I wanted to apologize- I have no idea what you must have gone through." she said, only sort of finding the words.

Teddy nodded.

"S'not your fault. You're not the one who did it." he shrugged.

"I'm dreadfully sorry still, it shouldn't have ever happened."

"Well, at least you can still apologize to me, Mrs. Whitly. There are twenty-three people who don't have that luxury." Teddy said softly.

It was quiet for a little while longer, as if Jessica was trying to find more words to say, but nothing felt right. After a few minutes, she reached into her bag and pulled out a tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.

"From Ainsley. She wanted to help make your arm feel better."

Teddy smiled.

"Thanks, Mrs. Whitly. I mean it."