Boy Meets Beast

✧ 6 ✧

"Looking for this?"

Charlie peeked from the stairway as he slowly descended, holding an item in his hand—A mini first aid kit. He didn't look pleased to find it.

Ilya extended his arms and begged, "I need that, please." With a shaky breath, he gulped. "Give it back, now."

Charlie reached the end of the stairs and that was when Ilya noticed the wrinkles between his brows and the darkness in his eyes.

At first, Charlie was disappointed, but after Ilya begged for the bag, he became pissed. He raised the small bag for Ilya to take one last look at it before—Crack!

With one squeeze of his hand, Charlie broke whatever was in that medkit.

"Noooo." Ilya sank to the floor, whining. "Why would you do that?"

Ilya was trembling as if he was inside a freezer. He couldn't feel his limps anymore. The room spun around and around and all he could do was lean on the couch and keep himself from throwing up.

"I needed it," he repeated one last time in agony. "What the hell did you do?"

When Ilya raised his head, he found Charlie's giant shadow blocking him. The boy scrambled away until his back was glued to the chair beside the couch. He stared at those lumberjack hands holding his mini medkit. His light green eyes wavered as they moved up to gaze at an intimidating man.

"A young lad like you shouldn't be wasting his life like this."

With stomping footsteps, Charlie closed the gap between them. Then he threw the medkit next to Ilya.

"What are you talking about?" Ilya lowered his head and whimpered.

"You know bloody well what I'm talking about."

With shaky hands, Ilya grabbed the medkit as he suffered silently. He felt the crushed items in the bag and some liquid drenching it. Quietly, he wept, as his condition got worse. His wearable device vibrated again, but he turned it off without looking at the number on the miniscreen this time.

"I-I think." Ilya shook his head. "You got this all wrong!"

The boy confronted the angry man but instantly regretted it when Charlie leaned forward to snap in his face.

"I know a drug addict when I see one!"

Ilya fought against a panic attack that was blocking his airway, making it difficult to breathe. He didn't have any strength in him to even move his arms, let alone fight Charlie if he had to. The sweat that covered him from limb to limb was getting colder every minute.

The boy squinted his eyes, and with a little tip of his head he said, "What?"

Ilya quickly closed his mouth and stayed quiet. Those creepy hazel eyes locked in on him again, watching him as he desperately tried to get away.

Hungry. Thristy. Weak. So tiny and scared. If things went sideways with Charlie, Ilya knew he wouldn't stand a chance against this sturdy grandpa.

The towering man took pity on the little boy.

"Fortunately," Charlie joyfully said as he backed away and changed direction to the kitchen. "I can make one of Mum's recipes to help you."

As soon as Charlie was gone from Ilya's sight, the boy gasped and inhaled in hysteric bursts. Charlie's temper terrified him, especially when he saw his eyes glowing, but maybe he was just getting worst to the point he started imagining things.

Nevertheless, Ilya was determined, more than ever, to leave this crazy's house. He wiped the sweat off his face, then clutched his drenched clothes to dry his hands before grabbing anything that would help him get back on his feet.

"Mum was a great cook," Charlie tried to make conversation as he worked his way through the kitchen cabinets. "I still have her cooking book around here—Ah! There it is." Charlie turned the pages of the cooking book until he found the page he was looking for. "This book saved me on many occasions..."

Ilya wasn't paying attention to any word that came out of Charlie's mouth. His eyes were wandering around, looking for an escape route. At first, he glanced at that locked front door, the one he took to get into this house. Then he checked the windows and all the other doors in the house.

BUZZZZ!

A high-pitched noise startled him and sent him straight to the ground again. It was Charlie, using a blender to make some type of drink.

Ilya tried to stand up again as fast as he could, fueled by the thought of getting the fuck out of here right this fucking second. He managed to get up with the help of badly shaking arms, but unfortunately, Charlie had walked back into the living room.

"Uh, uh, uh." Charlie waved his index finger. "Not so fast."

With an effortless push from Charlie's hand, Ilya was sent back to sit on the couch.

Ilya gasped as he hit the back of the couch. He opened his eyes to a disgusting-looking green juice in Charlie's hand.

Charlie sat on the coffee table in front of the boy and held the drink up to his face.

"Drink this," he said with a smile. "You'll feel bettah. Trust me."

The color drained from Ilya's eyes. He tried to pull back further away when he saw something brown and shiny with six long legs in the glass cup. It splashed and crawled until Charlie finally noticed it—A cockroach.

"Oops." The big man giggled and removed the insect from the drink. "How did this little fellah get here?"

He threw it away, then proceeded to hand Ilya the drink as if nothing gross just happened.

"Now, drink."

Ah, hell naw! I ain't drinking that even if my life depended on it!! 😫

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