Hope

Phase I: Gentleman, Jacob.

Chapter Six

Jacob would have dreams of running. He ran for kilometers on end, no fatigue ever reaching him. His steps would be light, and his shoes were not able to bend the grass underneath. And he would smile. His smile was happy. It was a smile of freedom. In his dreams he would also be his younger self, when his hair was badly cut, and his teeth were skew. Bruises coloured his tan skin, but they would not hurt. Jacob ran for so long in his dreams that his feet would start the bleed after his shoes broke, but that smile would never leave his young lips. It would never fall.
The sun would be shining, as well, to the point where it would make the boy sweat, and his skin would burn. He ran until he pulled off his shirt, and threw it away with painful joy. He would feel the hot sun bite at his scars that were scattered across his back. It would hurt, as if they were still new, and it would make him cry. He would cry as he ran, and he would cry as he smiled. His run would turn heavy, and his foot steps created deep echoes. His swinging arms would grow tired, his legs weak, and his mind finally gave in to the feeling of fatigue. When he would lift his exhausted head, he would be home.

That is when Jacob would wake up, and he felt what he felt in his sleeping state. His shirt was crumpled next to him on the bed, and it would smell of sweat. He looked at it, his breath quick. The cold breeze, that made its way into the bedroom, calmed his warmed body, and when his mind came to a clear state, he sat up. The blue darkness in the room was shooed by a candle near the furthest corner, the orange contradicting the mysterious blue. Jacob rubbed his eyes and looked there again; no figure could be seen. He slipped on his broken glasses and stood up, ambling over to the small table. On the wooden table was a letter, with a familiar address on the envelope. Jacob swallowed to try to moisten his dry throat as he gently took the letter, and tried to not collapse in emotion. He tried to open it - to see it already ripped open - and slipped the paper out of the envelope as gingerly as he would take his grandmother's hand. He read the letter slowly, and the more words he absorbed, the more ache came to his chest. The Autumn breeze nipped at his skin as it crept into the room, causing him to hunch over, and finally cry. It was difficult to identify the cause of the tears, for he sobbed with a broken heart, but breathed with relief. He looked out the window with gratefulness, but also, with grief. It did not matter to him if the letter was addressed to Dirk, what mattered was that she was alive... and well. He could sleep a little easier knowing she could walk, and smile, and be at peace. She could do things she could not do before, and there was no Jacob to stop her. At that moment Jacob was smiling, but crying. He was relieved, but aching. He was fine.

In the following hour Jacob was dressed and readying himself for another day of tiring work. He entered the kitchen and prepared tea for his master, after eating a handful of biscuits first. It was abnormal for Jacob to enter Dirk's bedroom, for usually he would rest the tray of tea in front of the door, and the vampire would collect it. This time, he was invited inside. He stepped inside with a candle, short enough so it would not fall off the tray. He placed the tray on the bedside table, and lit the other candles while Dirk was still properly awakening from his rest. The candles made the room look a lot more warm, as did they have that effect on any other room in the manor. The red wallpapers had a delicate pattern to them, making the room look more appealing. The ebony furniture being illuminated by the candles gave them the justice they needed; everything looked more impressive with just the smallest of lighting.
When Jacob was finished with the candles, he attended to the tea. He filled the cup three quarters of the way, placed the tea bag in, and let the flavour seep into the water until the bag was completely drained. Afterwards, he would drop two cubes of sugar, and let them dissolve before he stirred.
Dirk finally sat up by the time the tea was ready for him to sip on. His eyes never looked at his servant until he turned to leave,
"Where are you going?" he asked,
"I must continue with the rest of the cho-" before Jacob could complete his sentence, Dirk shook his head, and pointed to the spot next to the bed that he stood on before, after clicking his fingers. Jacob walked there quickly, and then, stood awaiting order.
A few sips later, Dirk placed his cup on the accompanied saucer, and looked up at Jacob.
"It was delicious," he commented.
Jacob raised a brow, and he bit his lip, "what is, sir?"
"What do you think I am talking about? Tea is tea, Jacob. I am referring to your blood."
Jacob tensed and ran his fingers over the bite; it was beginning to scab. He did not reply.
"As my father used to say, 'they taste so much better when frightened'," he chuckled and stole a large gulp from the tea. Jacob's eyes stared at Dirk's lips, watching his fangs peek out now and then. He felt that sting of pain from the bite when he saw those canines, and he felt his blood drain out of him. Shock came to him when he realized that was when he felt most alive. His face hardened when he met the strange feeling of pleasure he experienced when those fangs pierced his skin. He stepped back a little when Dirk's gaze met his, and his tongue was licking over his fangs. His was truly a wolf.
Dirk grinned, "You were unconscious for a day. I thought you were dead."
"Well... you did frighten me," Jacob added. Dirk raised a brow,
"Then I think I was very successful. Did you learn your lesson?"
Jacob only nodded. Dirk stared at him for a while, his eyes moving as he scanned Jacob's body. He licked his lips before he finished off his tea, and handed the empty cup to Jacob. He took it, and placed it on the tray.
"Right, Jacob? Take off your shirt for me."
Jacob almost choked at the command, "I beg your pardon?"
Dirk looked at him with a blank expression, simply waiting. It was not long before Jacob stepped back to pull off his blazer and shirt, and set them aside. He then stood straight for Dirk. His master then told him to sit in front of him, back facing him. Jacob did so. Dirk looked at the thick, and thin, raised skin that covered his back. Scars from his shoulders down to the last bones of his spine created an image anyone could pull a face to. In between, above and under, the lines of whip scars were burn scars, which were more faded, and more difficult to notice.
Dirk had no visible reaction. He simply let his eyes glide over the other's back, taking in every single skin deformity. He ran his fingers over his back, which made Jacob flinch, and straighten his back even more. The way Dirk's fingers lifted and lowered on Jacob's skin made him sigh.
"I got them from when I was a child," Jacob said softly. Dirk's eyes flicked to the back of his servant's head.
"I was a slave," he added. Jacob spoke in a melancholic tone, but his face was of no emotion.
"Where?" Dirk questioned,
"At this place called The Farm. I was one of the many children who would simply work machinery in this place. I'm not sure of what the purpose of the place was, or what me, and the other children, were doing."
"Never heard of it," Dirk looked down in thought.
"Because people rarely escape," Jacob replied.
"So you were a trouble maker," Dirk joked. Jacob blinked, and let out a soft chuckle,
"I guess you could say that,"
"Well now I can see you have not learned a single lesson in your entire life." Dirk snorted. Jacob turned to look at Dirk, and shrugged, "I guess you could say that." He repeated. Dirk looked at him and frowned.
"Get off my bed and get dressed," He ordered. Jacob did so and left the room quickly, apologizing before he closed the door.
Dirk stared at the closed door for a long moment, his eyes burning from the lack of blinking. With a huff he fell onto his back, and closed his eyes.