#Maybe Drac has a point sometimes but then I have -her- to remind me there are good things

[inkstainsxxonxxparchment]

This is @thatdoodlebug to me when I'm frothing at the mouth about hotel linen...

Thankfully haven't truly considered bringing back the Plague yet...though considering moth farming...

[aborderlinenightmare-blog]

-6 years

It was hours of banging on his bedroom door before the woman came to it. “Caden — you have to stop,” she said, her voice gentle but stern.

“No!” Caden screamed, slamming his fists harder, kicking for good measure. His little boots made dark marks against the white frame, but it was too thick to break down. Maybe if he was bigger. One day he’d be big enough to knock down the big stupid ugly white door. “I want to come out! Let me out!”

“No Caden. It’s time for bed. Santa Clause won’t come if you don’t go to sleep, you know.” Her tone was playful, but Caden couldn’t suppress his sneer.

“I don’t want anything from Santa Clause! Fuck you! Let me out!”

There was silence for a long time before he heard a familiar sound — it was the tone as each of the keys were input on the security panel in the hall. He stepped back, narrowly avoiding a surge of electricity. It sent him further backwards as he felt the hairs on his arms raise and his bared his teeth, watching the woman step primly inside. He could hurt her if he wanted to. He was small, but she was frail looking. He knew from experience though that dracs weren’t far away and they were much /much/ bigger than him.

“Caden what’s wrong?” The woman asked, walking towards him. Her thin white dress flowed around her pale ankles making her look like a ghostly specter. He remembered his mom telling him a story the year before about a man visited by three spirits on Christmas Eve. She kind of looked like how he imagined the ghost of Christmas past would look.

“I hate it here. I want to go home! I want my dad and my mom and my brothers and sisters and my aunts and uncles! I want my family!” Caden stomped his feet, then threw himself to his knees and doubled over his large bed. He did like the bed, but he didn’t want to admit it. The blankets were so soft and warm.

“Oh Caden,” the woman said, quiet. “We’re your family now sweetie.” She knelt beside him and placed a delicate hand on his back.

“No you’re not!” Caden screamed. “I hate you! I hate all of you!”

The woman didn’t get angry like everyone else did when he screamed at them. She just looked sad. “I want you to be happy here Caden.”

“That’s not my name! I hate you! I want my mommy!”

“Well,” the woman said thoughtfully. “I know I’m not your real mommy, but I thought maybe I could be your new mommy.”

Caden looked at her, horrified, and buried his face in his arms. “You’ll never be my mom! I hate you!”

She sighed and rubbed his back for a long time. At first he was tense and debated at several points whether he should push her away or not. Eventually though, the contact felt nice and he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing.

When she stood, he grabbed her arm. The gesture felt uncomfortably desperate, even for him, so he squeezed hard until she winced. “I’ll be right back,” she said, as if sensing his fear.

He was calmer when she returned some time later with two boxes wrapped in elegant and festive paper. “Don’t tell your father,” she said, smiling. “You can open these ones tonight. One’s from your papa, and one’s from me.”

“You’re not my—“ he stopped, eyeing them, curious. What were gifts like in the city? His gifts in the desert were always something essential, or a toy his mom had made him out of found materials. He’d seen a lot of them under the tree during the Christmas party earlier that day, but they’d given him a pill that made him feel dreamy so all he could recall were colors and lights. He hesitated, then took the gift. She smiled encouragingly at him when he looked up at her.

He felt sick as he unwrapped the present, but couldn’t stop himself. It was too enticing. He stared hard at the colorful packaging, then glanced at the woman. “Have you ever shot a crossbow before? Charles thought you might enjoy giving it a shot. ‘He’s got a keen eye’ that’s what he said. He’s very proud of you, you know.” Caden didn’t like the idea of any of them being proud of him, and yet it made his chest stir. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to seem too excited. The arrows are foam,” she said. “But I think when you’re with your instructor at the ranges you can use bolts.”

“Okay,” Caden said, voice flat. He didn’t like his instructors. He didn’t like the scientists that were always analyzing him. He didn’t like the woman or the man or the girl that he had to live with. Sometimes it felt more like a reminder than a fact. Sometimes fighting everything was just confusing and hard.

“And now my gift!” Her voice was suddenly chipper, lilting, like she was singing a song. “I’m very excited.”

“It has holes in it,” Caden remarked, pointing to the packaging.

“Does it?” The woman grinned and pushed the box towards him.

He unwrapped it, heeding her warning to be careful, and pried open the top. Inside was a kitten lying asleep on a velvet bed. It purred as it did, likely dreaming of its own mother. When he picked it up it mewled, but barely stirred, instead curling up against his chest as he held it in his arms.

“Charles and I had been hiding him in our room since yesterday. It was so hard to keep it a secret! He’s an F1 Savannah. Very energetic, very talkative, just like you.” The woman clapped, pleased that Caden seemed placated now. “What will you name him?”

Caden wasn’t listening to her. He was staring instead at the little sleeping kitten, and then at the crossbow. He liked the gifts. He liked them a lot. They were thoughtful and seemed expensive. He didn’t want to like them though. His bottom lip trembled and his eyes filled with tears. The conflict in his chest was dripping poison through every inch of his body. He hung his head and sobbed again, the fight momentarily drained from his body.

He didn’t push the woman away when she pulled him into her arms or when she stroked his hair and sang to him. He didn’t want to like any of this, but it was getting harder and harder to remember what was so good about the desert in the first place.