Father (Rewritten)

(Old verison) | Part 1 |

The shuffle of paper filled the stale air, accompanied by the automated clicking of a pen. Shifting slightly in his armchair for a more relieving position, the man massaged his temples as he leant back against the leathery seat. In thought, he flipped through clipped documents, busying himself in the numerous bore details.

Analysing each folders contents had not tire out the man, though it did bore him out after continuous hours. The few interesting applications were arranged in a small neat pile by his side. Next. Next. Next.

Nothing piqued his interest so far, until a very poorly plastered photo caught his eye.

Pushing his reading glasses back up it's crooked path, he centred his attention at the particular profile and the old-looking yellowed picture. The small-scale frame held a very young girl with sheen black hair flowing past

her shoulders, though she wore a frilly dull dress that had little to no colour, her healthy olive complexion made up for it. She was not smiling, maybe that was what interested him.

The most compelling thing about the child, were her astonishing pearly-grey eyes. They reeled him in like bait, captivating tiny flecks of blue in a hazardous storm. The longer the man stared at the photo, the more he felt frozen up and nauseous. They evoked a hidden memory from the depths of his mind, though hazy it was, he was recalling a name on the tips of his tongue.

 L̶̷i̶̷l̶̷l̶̷i̶̷a̶̷n̶̷

He clutched his head in his hands, painfully, compressing his skull and crushing fine dark locks in the process.

"Dame it!" He had nearly yelled, voice restraining back cracks from the lost of control. The man's chest heaved tightly, sweat slicked forehead, droplets forming on the sides of the his temples--sliding off his skin with a trail of tiny glistening crystals.

 He waited, waited patiently for the excruciating pain, it was a therapeutic attempt at a distraction but have proven most inefficient.

 Despite the toll on the man's psyche. It arrived instantenously, the familiar knife-like stings preoccupied his mind, enabling tense shoulders to slacken and laze.

The second an index came into contact with the sliver pad on the man's desk, a filtered mechanical voice erupted. "Need of assistance, Sir?" Chripped a calming and businesslike tone.

"Asprin, two tablets. Also bring along my emergency cellphone" The man said in a brisk manner, pressing down on the button. "Right away, S--" a thumb shuts off the transmitter, cutting off the rest of his personal assistant's sentence, quite abruptly.

Without much delay.

 The doorway to the study swung agape and a well rounded figure sauntered inside. A tray supported from under a scrawny hand, whereas the other was occupied with a steaming mug and a few files sealed between a forearm and

"I've brought an extra set of folders," said the plump man as he closed the door soundlessly using his heel, "had a feeling you'll be needing them, Sir."

He sets the tray down graciously along with the mug, on the wooden front beside the Sir. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Sir lifted his hooded golden eyes and gave a nod.

"Much appreciated, Waren." The chubby man smiled cheekily while bowing his head, a hand pressed over his breast pocket. Backing away promptly.

By now, a capsule was popped into the Sir's mouth, it's bitter tang spreading across fleshy canvas until the contents of a mug was forced down his throat. On cue, Waren dabbed the side of the man's mouth with a delicate napkin until the Sir gave a approved head bob.

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