ɢʟᴀᴍᴏʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴇʏᴇꜱ

55 : Cuckoo

The baby was crying again. The noise grated against his ears in a way that drove him insane. Not that he wasn't already driven to his last little straw since the little boy was born. Amelia still smiled as always, but her smile was strained and tired. After sleepless nights and days, she would practically collapse in on herself from exhaustion. They got a new house, they got a new life for this child. But that life was being wasted.

Her husband was a man that provided. They both took turns taking care of the baby until both of them were worn to the bone. They would shift from being a stay at home parent to an overtime worker. The cycle was endless. And the baby would never stop crying and complaining. That child was ungrateful, so ungrateful and unaware of how much they gave him. How much patience they had. How much Gregory himself was patient for him. But his patience was worn thin, and it was going to snap.

At first, the attention was split between him and the child, but eventually, that attention shifted all to the baby. He was left to himself all day, with the occasional small talk made his way. It was like he was a stranger in the very house he was welcomed so warmly in before. Sometimes, the husband would offer to play with him for the time being while Amelia was busy, but he didn't like that man. That man was the reason why this insufferable baby came along, that man always assumed that Gregory himself was born from the womb of humankind. Insufferable. He didn't want small talk, he wanted to be loved by Amelia, and Amelia alone. He wanted to be loved more than that damn child. Was that too much to ask for?

His hand was trembling on the nursery's doorknob, gripping it with a strength beyond that of a normal human, till the metal creaked beneath his cold, iron grasp. The baby was sobbing but Amelia and her husband were fast asleep, too deep of a sleep to notice. It was late, it was dark, and the baby was crying, again, and again, and again. Gregory's golden eyes glowed with a seething anger that would haunt anyone's restless dreams. It was a murderous rage, an animosity that tore everything around him to shreds, and when it passed, he always would question why everything avoided his touch.

The door creaked, a dim light of the nursery light inside shined in his optics like the flash of a predator's. The baby stopped crying as the door opened more. The chubby face of the child turned towards the sound, and all the baby could see were two gold pinpricks of dim light narrowing at him from the dark. There were quiet footsteps on the wooden floor, the golden lights approaching the cradle. A matra repeated in Gregory's head as he gently wrapped his cold fingers around the baby's delicate body.

First the child, then the husband.

He cradled the baby against his chest, the child gripped onto him weakly like Gregory was his mother, or his friend, or his brother. He could feel the disgusting feeling of the child's fingers and warm tears against his skin. He glared down at the infant with a dark expression, the child smiled up at him with innocent and trusting eyes. His anger spiked. How insufferable.

First the child, then the husband.

He approached the windowsill and brushed the silky curtains aside. He unlatched the window and it squeaked open, the curtains fluttered. He felt the cool nightly breeze gently ruffle his hair. The baby giggled joyfully at his side. He glared out the window, it was quite the drop from the second story of the house. But baby birds have to learn how to fly eventually, even if said baby was a cuckoo bird. A gluttonous cuckoo who stole all the attention from the other bird. Maybe that poor, little bird just wanted to stand up for himself before the cuckoo would try to push him out of the nest instead.

First the child, first the child.

He outstretched his arms till the baby was held out of the window. The child giggled joyfully as he was in the air. His cheerfulness made Gregory grit his teeth together in annoyance, his grip slightly tightened. The cuckoo bird needs to go, he doesn't care that the other birds loved the cuckoo. There's not enough space for both of them. There's not enough love for both of them. So, one of them had to go, and it was not going to be him. This child was a burden, Gregory was just doing them all a big favor.