White blood

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After the day at the lake, Ferry lost his peace. He tried to find all sorts of explanations for Billy's birthmark. Maybe it was just rotten grass from the lake since it hadn't been cleaned in decades. Maybe it was a scar Billy had gotten who knows how. Or maybe it was just a coincidence, though Ferry was beginning to understand that there were no coincidences in life as his father said.

But one thing was certain — he needed proof that Billy was Andrew Donovan. And the proof could only be found in one place — the Pride Mansion.

At the mansion, the preparations for the Quest were in full. The whole place was cleaned, brushed, rubbed, trimmed. The employees of the mansion worked like ants in an anthill. In the kitchen, special menus were being decided. Mr. Pride was more agitated and nervous than usual. And Ferry found out that evening the reason for his anxiety: the mysterious guest appeared in the last room on the third floor.

Ferry was paying attention to everything and everyone. He found himself secretly watching Billy. The boy looked just as gloomy. But the sadness in his eyes seemed strangely familiar to Ferry. So did the way the sun shone in his hair. And so was the smile in the corner of his mouth. He had seen them all before. And the longing for his mother became even more excruciating.

He decided not to tell anyone until he was sure. During the lunch break, he followed Mrs. Pride's nurse, and when she left her patient's room, he snuck inside. He found Mrs. Pride sitting on a chair in front of the window. She looked as weak and absent-minded as last time he saw her. The tray with food next to her was untouched.

Ferry easily came closer. "Mrs. Pride," he whispered.

She shuddered, looked up at him, and smiled. "You came ..." she said.

"Mrs. Pride, "Ferry dared," I want to ask you something about Billy."

She frowned, "Billy?"

"Yes. Your son ..."

"Billy, that little brat! He's not my son! " she shook her head.

"Does that mean he's adopted?"

"Adopted ... Yes ... Albert ... can't have children ..."

"Do you know when he was adopted?"

She seemed lost in the memories again. "When he was adopted ..." she repeated.

Ferry felt impatient. He didn't have much time left. "Mrs. Pride, please try to remember."

"He was brought before Albert and I met ..."

Ferry felt like he reached a dead end again. Now it was no longer about the secrets of the Pride family. Now it was about his mother's son.

"I tried to get him out of this place," she continued, and a tear ran down her cheek.

Ferry became alert again.

"I tried to get out of here myself. But I couldn't. Once you get in here, you can't go out. It's too late. There is no escape. People come to this town thinking it's a new chance. A new beginning. But they don't know they will stay here forever. They think they are the owners of their own lives. But they can't see what's hidden in the shadows. How their lives are already drawn and they become the puppets of a single puppeteer ..." she said, staring out the window in front of her as if Ferry wasn't even there. "All the suffering, all the pain, all the deaths that happened in this place have to do with him," she continued with the same stare of a woman haunted by the ghosts of the past.

"Who?" Ferry asked.

"The monster," she hissed, grabbing his hand. Now she stared at him with her haunted gaze. 

The Lost Son | Ferry's Tale # 2Where stories live. Discover now