Scribbles and Drabbles

Notebook Drabbles 11

There was a nasty scar on his hand now. He kept staring at it. Cecil wanted it to go away. It wanted it all to go far away. He didn't understand how this was all happening. His dad was dead and now someone was in his place and expecting him to act like nothing had happened.

"Cecil," a voice growled, rumbling through the room. "Come here, brat. Need to change your bandages again."

Cecil hugged his knees closer to his chest before slowly crawling out of his little hideaway. It was hard to resist the call of the stranger. There was something about how he said Cecil's name that pulled. It wrapped around his neck and tightened almost painful when he didn't obey.

He flinched as cold hands wrapped around him and picked him up. He didn't struggle, leaning on the shoulder as he was carried to where the stranger wanted him. He was thirteen. He couldn't remember to the last time someone had held him like this but the stranger seemed to enjoy doing so. The grip didn't hurt. The stranger had not hurt him since that night. Cecil was too scared to try to fight in case that changed, however.

"Sit still for me," the man ordered, placing Cecil on the countertop and pulling the hand from were Cecil had it shielded on his chest.

Long fingers uncurled Cecil's hand and sorted pulled the bandages off it. Cecil bit his lip as the man stretch out his digits and check them over. He tutted from time to time, before slathering his skin with a paste. It burned for a moment before the man re-bandaged it.

"Good boy," The man kissed the back of his hand before putting Cecil back on the ground. "You'll be healed up in no time and then we can send you back to school."

Cecil grimaced.

The stranger laughed, a soft chuckle of amusement but the first proper laugh Cecil had heard from the man. It was oddly reassuring. Up until now had been scowls and growls, with the occasional solemn look of someone not sure what to do. The stranger had not planned for Cecil to exist when he had taken Cecil's space in fate and time. Cecil's father hadn't made a point of Cecil living with him. He loved Cecil, Cecil knew this but there had been a distance needed. And now he was gone. Cecil looked down, hugging his arms close to himself unable to twist the pout from his face.

A hand ruffled his hair in an almost fond manner. "I need you to be a normal child, Cecil. That includes going to school."

"But!" Cecil went to complain but the man tutted and placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

"I told you the options. I can keep you with me or I can send you away," he reminded, hands gripping at Cecil shoulders. Cecil hugged himself at the reminder. He didn't want to leave his friends. Not to mentions, the stories of what happened to children in foster care were scary. Somehow more scary than the thing in front of him wearing the face of his father. "Cecil, you're a bright one. Work hard and I'm sure you'll go far. You should be in school. And I won't hear any complaints about it."

"I'm pretty sure being a teenager means I'm supposed to complain about everything,"

"Grumble all you want to your friends. I hear a complaint and I will punish you," the man promised, though there was a lightness to his voice. Maybe a touch of relief in there too. "Now go find something to entertain yourself with. I have friends coming over soon."

"Yes, sir," Cecil didn't stop pouting but walked off. Or tried too, the man pulled him into a tight hug. It was stiff and awkward but a hug nonetheless.

Cecil got back to his little hideaway quickly, dragging his games console with him and a blanket. Friends coming over was never a good thing.