One Pup

Chapter 11 - Puppy?

---External' POV---

He couldn't think, couldn't respond to the world. Once again, he was trapped in his own body, a victim of his autism but this time, he wasn't under the influence of any drugs.

His body rocked back and forth rapidly, head between his knees as Felix hummed deeply. Throat sore from humming, screaming and crying, he softly cleared it as his eyes flitted through the room... through the mess Felix created.

That day...when the vet told them Felix couldn't take Milo back home... Felix had been blocked in his body, unable to move, think or protest. He wasn't even allowed to go and see Milo. Those strangers that had come to pick Milo up, just...took him with them.

"Felix? Honey...please...let us in."

The voice of his father was deep, almost pained as he spoke. He only kept rocking, glancing down at his hands. They were stained red, probably from his cracked and split nails. He could still feel the scratches burning around his ears and face from where he had clawed myself, trying to push the pain in his heart away.

-milomilomilomilomilomilomilomilo-

His wolf's name drummed through his head at the pace of his rocking, his heart pulsing painfully each time he thought of his wolf.

Somehow, he was locked out of his own body. All he could do was sit back and feel as his body moved beyond his will.

He could clearly remember his father chasing after him when Felix had dashed after the truck that held Milo. The red tail lights had disappeared along with his pup and Felix' father had to push his uncooperative son in the back of his car and bring him home.

Wishful thinking on the older man's side probably made him believe Felix would calm down soon, that he'd relax in the familiar surroundings of his home. Unwilling to force Felix to take any medication, the parents had tried and failed to calm him down.

"Puppy..."

A single tear trailed over Felix' nose, brushing over the angry welts caused by his nails and dripped down his chin. His father sighed behind the closed door and slowly pushed against it, having to strain to shove the furniture that blocked the doorway.

"Oh Felix..."

It pained the man to watch his son like this. He's had episodes before, true, but never like this. He winced as he glanced around the room; the desk was toppled over, the desk light laying in an odd angle, cracked against the wall. All of Felix' perfectly stored pencils, pens and quills were torn, cracked and strewn across the floor.

The man sighed deeply, feeling his shoulders lower as he saw Felix' treasured drawings and paintings, artworks he had preserved and handled with delicate care...all of them had been torn to shreds.

All except a single drawing of a wolf peeking out of the forest.

He glanced up at his son, saw the bright red scratches, the strikes of black ink that had spilled from the glass Chinese ink bottle that laid half-emptied on the floor. Slowly he entered the room, cautious of not triggering his son any further.

Felix didn't respond. He simply kept humming, rocking back and forth without a trace of slowing down. Occasionally his eyes would shiver, trailing down to the drawing of the wolf. His rocking slowed, body relaxing until he blinked and seemed to realize the wolf wasn't there.

The father sighed and glanced back, feeling uncomfortable to let anyone see this. But the stranger that had appeared on his doorstep might be the key to get his boy back. Smiling once more.