Etched In Stone

Chapter Six

The little boy sits by the window, staring out of it pensively. A man watches him carefully through the door, careful not to make a sound lest he scares him. The boy barely moves a muscle, curled up in on himself, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his knees. His skin is so pale it's almost white, and he's so thin that his shoulder blades are visibly prominent through his t-shirt. He's barely eaten a thing since he got here. He doesn't laugh, or play like boys his age should. He just sits there, curled up, and doesn't make a sound.

The man sighs deeply and turns on his heel, making his way back down the narrow corridor and starting to ascend the staircase. Before he's even walked halfway up the stairs a girl appears behind him, about eleven years of age, tugging at his sleeve.

"Dad," she hisses urgently, glancing at the door that he'd watched the little boy through, "Any luck with the boy?"

"No," the man shakes his head, sighing deeply once more. "Not a thing."

"Has he even told you his name yet?"

"No, he's barely spoken a word to me or your mother." The man glances towards the door, checking that they're out of earshot.

"He's a lost cause, dad." The girl rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "He can't even talk - he's not going to provide any information about the facility. He's no use."

"It's only been three days, Saren. Give him a chance."

"Fine. Ian and I will try talk to him again later." She edges past her father on the stairs and takes them two at a time, reaching the landing long before him.

"Check on Serena, would you?" He calls up to her.

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

- - - - - - - -

That night, the little boy is asleep in his bed, turning every few seconds as something is disturbing him. His clenched fists grip the sheets tightly and it's clear that a nightmare is plaguing him. Finally, after several more minutes, he suddenly bolts into a sitting position, letting out a strangled gasping noise. He's covered in a sheen of perspiration, his t-shirt sticking to his skin, gasping as if he's just exerted himself completely. The fear in his expression is evident; he clutches the sheets tightly in his fists, pulling them close to himself.

"Are you okay?"

A voice sounds in his head all of a sudden. His head snaps up and he looks wildly around himself, but there's no one in the room but himself.

"W-who's there?" He stammers, speaking for the first time in what feels like a very long time.

"Oh. You haven't actually met me yet."

"How are you talking to me like that?" He asks, looking around him carefully again, "I don't see you anywhere."

"I can do it inside people's heads. Weird, isn't it? I always feel like I can see inside people's heads. Don't you have powers, too?"

He nods although he can't tell if she'll be able to see or not. "I can't use them anymore, though."

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

She's so quiet for a while that he thinks that she's fallen back asleep, but then her voice sounds in his head again.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Jake." He says out loud. "Who are you?"

"My name's Serena. Sorry for scaring you, Jake."

"It's okay."

"You were scared before, though. You had a bad dream."

"How did you know that?" He questions, his tone dubious. He leans over the side of his bed and peers underneath carefully. "Are you sure you're not in the room?"

"I'm in my room, silly, down the hall from yours. It's weird - it's like I could sense your scared feelings even though we're not the same person or anything."

"Do you not get scared, too?" Jake asks curiously. He thinks that he can almost tell she's shaking her head.

"For a minute or two, but then I'm able to tell that it's someone else's fear and not mine."

Another pause, and then, "We should both go back to sleep. I like you, Jake. Ian and Saren don't talk to me much because they're older. You can be my friend, if you want."

He smiles for the first time since he got here. "I'd like that."

"Night, Jake."

"Goodnight."