In My Hands, Know Suffering

31: Or You'll Get It

Something was definitely wrong when Castellone hadn't felt Specter's presence after the night he unintentionally touched Abrielle. It had been weeks since the last time he heard any of the entity's unwanted laughter. There were no signs of his attempted possessions either. It made him wonder whether the spirit actually gave up on him already. If so, he still had an unsettled business with it.

He couldn't shake the feeling that it was planning another of its mischief. If Loki held guns instead of what the Norse Myths painted him to have, he couldn't really scrape Specter with it either. The entity was a helpless being, drowning in the pleasure that was someone else's suffering.

Castellone read the news that day. The school paper told him that Mr. Fiddlehap escaped from prison, and was now being searched for by the authorities. The professor escaped through a hole he punctured behind the mirror of his cell which led to the sewers, as always. It had stunned the police of how he was able to fit himself through there. He weighed triple than a normal healthy old man and had a round form. He must be really eager and desperate to get out.

At first, he shrugged off the news about the professor going wild somewhere around Obsidia City. As he worked on a reaction paper on his literature major, something terrible had just dawned on him that made him realize why Specter wasn't around for the days when he called out to him.

Of all the unfortunate, his brother was one of the few he didn't want the fire to ignite on. He heard a steady thrumming. Then, it went faster when he realized that he was actually anxious of how the day was going to conclude. Holy...shit.

He stood in panic, a frown in his face. He knew he had to do something, because something brewed the demise in the air he was currently inhaling. If mischief had not existed, there would be a way to lessen the damages of the words he had wrought. In terms of initiation, he hoped he wasn't too late as he dashed out of the dormitory and out of the university. The suburbs were his safest bet.

Shock. It defined what people considered as another way to scare people. To the faint-hearted, it was a despicable thing to do. No one would dare to scare old people with hearing disability. No one would attempt to scare kids when it was time for bed if they wanted to be early for school the following morning. And absolutely no one should scare a pregnant woman and lose her wits because of the child she carried.

A sudden outpour of tremor and shock had shaken the thoughts and balance within Flarion. She was forced to get off the divan. A butcher's knife was pointed threateningly on her belly. She couldn't be more surprised to see Mr. Fiddlehap aiming it on her unborn baby and was now forcing her to climb the stairs into one of the bedrooms. Towards Castellone's bedroom.

She didn't know how she could possibly run her way out of the threat as she walked and held her arms protectively together. "Mr. Fiddlehap, please, this is not a funny thing you should do."

But the old man didn't say anything, his expression was dull. It almost appeared like all life had been drained from his face. He still wore the uniform given to him by the prison, he was barefoot. His feet were dirtied by the tour he obviously took somewhere, anywhere but the prison. And the road had so led him there. To her. Finally.

Mr. Fiddlehap raised the knife higher until the tip of it touched Flarion's swollen belly the minute she had her inside the room. She stepped away from the knife while holding her stomach protectively. But the professor moved closer until her back against the wall, trapping her.

He aimed the knife in place that was against her belly. He drew his head closer to hers to inhale her sweet scent of lilac. Flarion turned her head away from the old man while zipping her lips tightly. She held her stomach away from the knife. She wanted to head for the door but the size of Mr. Fiddlehap told her she couldn't make it far to get help. She at least had to try. No matter what.