3
1086 Words
EZRA
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the silence. Not the good kind. Not the peaceful, birds-chirping, Sunday morning kind. This was filed with silence, like someone had pressed their hand over the whole house and told it not to breathe.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, rubbing my face. My mouth tasted like metal, my back hurt from sleeping wrong, and my stomach was a pit of nerves. For a second I thought about just packing up and leaving—money or not, this wasn’t worth my sanity. But then I remembered Lilian’s face, her voice reminding me about the contract. I’d signed my life away for a paycheck.
Dragging myself to the door, I froze.
Something was sitting right outside.
A tray.
Porcelain plate, silver dome, glass of orange juice sweating against a napkin.
I groaned under my breath. “Okay, creepy hotel service, great.”
I picked it up and carried it inside, the metal dome clinking as I lifted it. Eggs. Toast. Sausage. It looked normal—too normal. My stomach growled but I just sat there staring at it like it was going to sprout teeth and bite me back.
Eventually, hunger won. I ate in silence, forcing each bite down. Every creak of the house made me glance at the door like I’d catch someone watching.
By the time I set the tray back outside, my nerves were raw.
That was when I heard it.
Shuffle.
My head snapped up.
Another shuffle but closer this time, like bare feet dragging across polished wood.
“Kieran?” I whispered, throat dry.
No answer.
I stepped into the hallway. Empty. But the sound carried faintly from downstairs. My feet moved before I could think, heart hammering with each step.
The kitchen.
That’s where I found him.
Kieran was crouched on the floor near the long oak table, surrounded by… toys. Actual toys. Plastic dinosaurs with teeth worn down, wooden blocks chipped at the edges, a ragged teddy bear missing an eye. He had them all spread out in neat little rows, like soldiers waiting for inspection.
I stopped dead in the doorway.
He didn’t look up at first. His pale hands moved carefully, arranging a green dinosaur beside a crooked stack of blocks. His lips moved silently, like he was talking to them.
I swallowed hard and forced out words. “Uh… morning.”
His head snapped up. Those gray eyes locked on me, unblinking.
I cleared my throat, trying to sound casual. “You, uh… you like toys?”
Kieran tilted his head. Not a word. Just that stare.
I took a cautious step forward, holding my hands up like I was approaching some skittish animal. “Mind if I sit?”
No response.
Screw it. I lowered myself onto a chair at the table, keeping my movements slow. My knees cracked and I winced. Great. Perfect way to show I was relaxed.
The silence stretched until I thought my eardrums might burst. Then—out of nowhere—he picked up the teddy bear. Walked it across the floor. Stopped in front of me and set it down by my foot.
I blinked. My mouth opened, shut, then finally managed a weak, “Uh… thanks?”
He just stared.
I bent down, picked the thing up. Its fur was rough, smelled faintly like dust and old sweat. One button eye dangled by a thread. “Nice bear,” I said, forcing a smile even as my voice cracked on the last word.
Kieran’s lips twitched. For a second I thought it might be a smile, but then his gaze sharpened.
I coughed, looking back at the toy spread. “So… you wanna, uh, play? Or—”
I reached out, touching one of the blocks.
Big mistake.
His hand shot out, snatching it back with a speed that made me flinch. His fingers clenched around it so hard the wood squeaked.
“Okay, okay!” I raised both hands my heart racing. “My bad. Yours. Totally yours.”
He growled lowly. Animal-like. Then slammed the block onto the floor so hard it cracked.
“Jesus,” I whispered, pulse skyrocketing.
He loomed there, breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling. I thought he was about to lunge. My throat closed up—I was already imagining teeth, fists, blood—
But just as fast as it started, it ended. His body slackened. He dropped the block, turned away, and sat back down, calmly picking up a dinosaur like nothing happened.
I sat there frozen, too afraid to even move the chair. My palms were sweating, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
“Okay,” I muttered, more to myself than him. “Cool. We’re fine. Totally fine.”
He didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance up. Just kept tapping the dinosaur against the table. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound drilled into my skull.
I forced myself to breathe. “You hungry? I could… make something.” My voice shook. “Or we could eat together. That’d be nice, right?”
Nothing.
He tapped the toy harder. Tap. Tap.
My jaw ached from clenching. “Kieran, please,” I tried, softer this time, like coaxing a stubborn kid. “If you don’t eat, I’ll get in trouble.”
That made him stop.
Slowly, his eyes flicked up.
The air in the room shifted.
The way he looked at me wasn’t like a child’s gaze anymore. It was sharp, calculating. Predatory.
I froze. My throat clicked as I swallowed. I forced a nervous smile. “Forget it. Don’t worry. You do your thing.”
For a long moment, he just stared. Then, without a sound, he stood. Turned. And walked out of the room.
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My whole body sagged with relief.
The toys stayed lined up. The bear, though—that stayed with me.
When I went back upstairs, it was still in my hand and I didn’t even remember picking it up.
I set it on the desk in my room, propped against the wall. One glass eye staring at me, the other dangling useless.
A gift. That’s what it was supposed to be. A gift.
I lay back on the bed, staring at it.
But all I could think about was the way Kieran had looked at me.
Like I wasn’t his caretaker.
Like I was one of his damn toys.
- Writer
