Death Games

Chapter 8- tainted love.... and hate

Alec sat in the controlling chair in front of that many monitors that showed the glorious home movies of his inherited arena. He didn't even look or noticed the poor chap getting bludgeoned to death in the lower left screen- he was too preoccupied. His sweaty hands gripped the arm-rests. He stared at the screen, uncomprehendingly, and Kay and Dani went back to their respective beds. Dani and Kay.... had a moment. 

In his mind, Dani was his property. She belonged to him- belonged with him. There was something about her- the intelligence in her gaze that drove him insane. He fantasized about what he would do with her- do to her- if he ever had her alone. She had to be one of the finishing nine. She had to. Of course, his father would frown upon his choosing of a member of the games- after all Alec was 23 and it was quite unseemly for an older man to take a younger girl for himself. Although, that didn't stop him from gazing at her. She was quite developed for her age he thought to himself. And then he lost himself in his many perverse fantasies. 

Before he got too.... into it he got up and locked the door. Just incase some of the guards came in during his "private time." He started to undo the top button on his pants, there was a knock at the door. Alec growled to himself, swearing he would murder the knocker as he stood and button his pants. He came to the door and opened it. "WHAT?" He growled. But, it wasn't who he was expecting (a dimwitted butler or something)- it was his father.

***

Alec and his father, Atticus, were sitting across from each other in a tea room. Alec hated to go to the tea rooms- he always felt unwelcome there in his torn-up jeans, which is all he ever wore. He leaned foreward in his chair, slouching and had nearly growled when a waitor passed by offering him coffee or an assorted bunch of teacakes on a little tray. His hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot and underlined with extremely dark bags. His flanel shirt collar was undone and horribly wrinkled and crooked. 

His father, on the other hand, looked quite the gentleman. He looked only about 10 years older than Alec, thanks to medicines that only the wealthiest of families- like theirs- could afford. He sat with perfect posture, his nose almost in the air as he balance his teacup and saucer on his crossed leg. He had been named after Scout's father from To Kill A Mockingbird ironically, because there was not much more he liked than that of gore and violence. Chaos was his speciality, and he was handed the beautiful arena from his father, and his father from his father, and so forth as long as anyone would remember. He had shiny black hair and crisp olive eyes. His skin was very pale, just like Alec, but unlike his son he loved to go outside and frollic in his rose garden. Another plus- if he found a dead rose he could reak havoc among the servants. Not like he couldn't anyway, but he felt guilty unless he had a reason- no matter how small.

Atticus cleared his throat. A little butler came by, kneeled and held out a tray so it was at the same height as a coffee table would be. If he spilled one drop of tea he would loose his life. It was not a nice spot to be in and he began to sweat as soon as Atticus placed the teacup on the tray.

Atticus ran his hand through his hair, half for dramatic effect, half for feeling the luciousness of his own hair. You see, he was very vain. He always had to be perfect- whether it be weight-loss pills, hair-growing pills, or youth-enhancing pills, he always had to take his daily dose. He stopped taking count of his pills once it was more he could get his servants to count on three hands. Although he didn't count he was not dull- infact, he could be concidered a genius. No one ever knew, because no one dared bring him a less than perfect IQ score- even though he never took an IQ test.

Alec glared at a little rose in the design of the carpet. If anyone could set something on fire just by looking at it, Alec would have just then. He hated his father. Actually more of plainly detested his father. He didn't really like any person, but Dani, and he had never met her, or even seen her in person. He would bet she'd look even lovlier in person. His gaze softened. He was lost in a lover's fantasies once again.

His father spoke one word and completely shocked Alec out of his reveries. "Alec." Alec jumped and blinked. He looked at his father and waited for him to speak. His father didn't say it roughly, but he had acknowledged his son. Normally, he would go on exotic trips and pretend he had never knocked up that one spanish woman. 

Atticus blinked, and brought himself back to the task at hand. Alec. This was the first year he would ask his son to pick a champion.