A Murderer's Son: A Zelink Story

Chapter 22

I heard footsteps approach the main hall where I was sitting in solitude, only me and her in the entire village. The rest of the men had gone out to steal, but had left me behind to sort through letters as I was one of very few who could read and write in this place. Plus, I was new and too much of a shy 12-year-old (though I looked much older than my age at the time, and was extremely clumsy due to feeling like a toddler in a teenager's body) to disobey any of them.

I raised my head quickly to see her, with her long brunette hair and big blue eyes, cradling her baby bump with one hand and reading a book with the other.

I immediately shot my gaze down again, feeling my cheeks burn up. I knew she knew, but she was always nice to me nonetheless.

"Hey, Max," She smiled softly, planting herself with breathless struggle at the end of the table. "The others leave you behind again?"

"Yeah," I responded, my eyebrows furrowing as I kept my focus on the papers at hand. I glanced up at her again and almost jumped at the sight of a smaller bump moving beneath her fabric. "Uh, your-" I stuttered, though I was pretty sure that this was just another side effect of pregancy. "Your dress is moving."

A chuckle briefly flashed across her face as she moved her book out of the way, beaming down at her puffed out belly. "I know, isn't it freaky?"

"What is that?"

She looked at me once more before sympathy riddled her face. "It's the baby, obviously!" She then looked back at her belly, soothing the movement with a simple stroke of her hand. "Almost ready to meet me now, aren't you?"

I was hypnotized by the love-ridden interaction between this woman and her unborn baby. I'd never experienced anything but neglect, and seeing such connection was enough to make my stares of enchantment seem rude and emotionless.

However, Elanour knew this. She was always patient and sympathetic towards me, despite my complete inability to do anything useful or my lack of social skills. She saw me, and let me gaze, aware that it was healing me.

The rest of the guys didn't really like me. Maybe that's because they were all in their twenties whilst I was a pre-teen, but I also spilled everything, tripped anywhere my mindless feet took me and couldn't formulate a sentence without stuttering. I was bad at most things, and only mediocre at some. My parents hadn't cared to teach me anything at all, and had resorted to rotting into drug abuse whilst leaving me to figure stuff out ever since I was five. And if I ever cried or asked to play or made any noise whatsoever, they'd beat me rotten, leaving me in the fetal position with tears running down my cheeks and the taste of blood on my tongue. So I stayed quiet.

This meant that I could hardly talk, I was terrible at learning new things and I didn't know how to filter my words. And I was always embarrassing myself in front of Elanour, because I didn't know when to stop gazing at her, which had landed me on extremely thin ice with the chief.

But she was aware of my childhood and my crush on her, and was incredibly patient with me, whilst also teaching me how to socialize properly. I think she thought it was sweet that I got nervous around her. "Max?", she was always saying to me with a smile, "I'm in a towel, honey. Do you think later might be a better time to ask me a question?" or, "Max? You're staring a little, honey."

Before this, though, the chief had had enough of me, and threatened me before he left. "One more look at my wife, son, and you'll be on the floor before you can blink."

I've never forgotten it.

Before long, though, I turned back to sorting through my papers.

After a few minutes of small talk in between sorting through letters, I heard her wince. I didn't think anything of it, and didn't want to stare. But then she winced again, clutching the fabric on top of her belly.