#049-j

late for Father's Day but whatever

In all his life, there were few words he wasn’t called. When he succeeded he was ‘brilliant’, when he’d fail he was ‘braindead’, when he’d get overwhelmed or angry he was ‘out of control’, when he acted out he was ‘a brat’. His ‘caretakers’, who took Mother’s place when she showed too much emotion to him, lived to smother him with taunts and labels for anything and everything.

Asked for privacy? He was ‘rebellious’. Wanted new clothes? He was ‘entitled’. Nothing he said or did was good enough for any of them, and they made it painfully apparent how much they hated having to be around him. They were mainly men, not one of them young, but none more than 60 years old, people who had impossible expectations for their ‘project’.

He scrunched his fists into a tight ball, heavy, angry breaths coming from his beak. His mood wasn't helped by the countless surveillance cameras in his room. He hated being watched, always had as well. But they didn’t give a damn about his wellbeing, let alone ‘trivial matters’ like his comfort.

He swiftly rose from the metal chair, slightly wincing at the noise it made as it scraped across the floor. He surveyed his 'room' with a critical eye. In his youth he considered it the best of the best, but after escaping to the outside world for several months, he wasn't so sure.

A cot, a table and a chair. That was all he had. When he was younger, and when Mother was still caring for him, he had books, coloured pencils and even occasionally puzzles and toys. But the day Juliette died, the soldiers came in and ripped it all away like nothing.

He itched at the cold metal cuffs around his wrists. The care team had warned him that any 'funny business' and they would take the furniture away. He didn’t want to sleep on the floor again like he had to for a month after he was recaptured.

He stared at the cuffs for a minute, a desperate plan coming together in his head. He knew the cuffs were electric, made to give him a painful shock anytime his arms made sudden movements. He knew that the door also worked on electricity, and that the men outside the door had been talking about calling the site electrician to fix the locking mechanism.

The dots started to connect, but the plan, whatever semblance of one he could possibly come up with, was unbelievably risky. Every single person in the observation booth had their eyes on him, and he learned the hard way that the shock cuffs were also remote controlled.

He shook his head, steeling his nerves as he slowly walked towards the door. ‘This is my last chance.’ He pushed down his doubt even as adrenaline began to creep through his veins, ‘I can’t afford to wait now. I can’t just give up.’ He glanced at the observers once again, and his eyes hardened. ‘This is the only way I’ll ever be free. I can’t just let them win without a fight.’

With sharp, sudden movements, he raised his arms above his head, and slammed the cuffs into the door as fast as he could. His eyes shut tight as the fiery sensation of the shock cuffs’ activation jolted through him, every muscle alight with red-hot pain.

It took a good minute for his hands to stop twitching and jerking involuntarily, and he watched with increasing excitement as the crowd gathered in the observation room began to panic and scramble away, no doubt realising the severity of the situation. The wailing of the breach alarm rung in his ears as he struggled to his feet, the metal cuffs shattered like glass. The door was easy enough to force open now that the electronic lock was disabled, if not heavy and annoyingly loud.

He shook as he started to scale the stairs that led to the observation deck. He threw open the drawers, knowing that here is where kept some of his father’s confiscated tools. He kept rummaging until he felt a familiar wooden handle and pulled out the amputation knife from the desk drawer. The blade was a little dull, and the handle had seen better days, but it was plenty sharp still.

35: why do you treat that thing like a child

49: it's very sweet

35: if we get married do I have to care 4 it

i REALLY like 049-j,,,,