Silent Touch

Christopher opened the basement door and slowly crept inside and saw Mason on his ‘bed’, sobbing to himself.

“Mason,” he called out, stepping towards him.

Mason turned his body and looked up at him. His face was covered in bruises and cuts that would scar for a lifetime and a faint greenish color on the right side of his cheek. Christopher bit his lip and kneels down beside him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked him, knowing it was a stupid question to ask.

Mason shook his head no and clung onto the blanket tightly. Christopher rests a hand over the small boy’s forehead and saw that he was burning. He looked at him and saw that there were bags underneath Mason’s eyes, his eyes bloodshot, and his lips were chapped.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked him.

He shook his head and clung onto the blanket tightly.

“Please, just go away,” Mason whimpered softly.

Christopher shook his head and chuckled.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he stated.

Mason looked up and stared at him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked him.

Mason nodded his head and buried his head back into the mattress and tugged the blanket over his small frame.

Christopher walked up the stairs and into the kitchen. He went into the fridge and began to look for something that might cure him for a while. He shook his head and looked in the cupboards. He saw a can of soup and grabbed hold of it. He looked at it and thought that it can help get Mason a little bit better. He got a pan out and opened the can of soup open and dumped it inside the pan. He turned the oven on and waited. He was glad that he stayed in the kitchen with Amy or else he would’ve been lost and wouldn’t know what to do.

“Christopher? What are you doing?” a feminine voice asked.

He jumped in fright and turned around and was face to face with Casey.

“Oh, hey Casey. I’m just… making myself something to eat,” Christopher told her.

“Well, let me do that. I am a chef in the kitchen. When I’m done, I can have Mason deliver the food to you,” Casey said, shoving him out of the way.

“No!” he snapped, making Casey step back. “I mean, I can do it. You don’t have to,” he corrected himself.

Casey raised an eyebrow at him and shrugged her shoulders.

“Alright, then.”

He watched Casey walk out of the kitchen and disappear behind the door. Christopher took a deep breath he didn’t know that he was holding and checked on the soup. It was just right. He took a ladle and poured some of the soup into a bowl and quickly, before anybody caught him, walked down towards the basement. He saw Mason lying motionless and in the same position that he was in before. He walked towards him and sat next to him on the mattress and took his temperature again. He was still warm. Christopher laid the bowl of soup next to him and shook him awake.

“Mason, I have food for you to eat,” Christopher told him.

Mason turned his body and lifted his head weakly at him. He looked so pale and so fragile. He looked around and saw the bowl of soup next to him. Christopher picked it up and scooped some of the juices with the noodles and fed them inside his mouth. He took them greedily. Christopher frowned and looked over him. He was extremely skinny. He can almost see the bone sticking out of his skin. It made him look extremely unhealthy.

“When was the last time you ate?” Christopher asked him.

“Besides right now, a few nights ago,” Mason answered, finishing up the soup.

“Mason, that’s extremely unhealthy,” he told him.

“I know, but what choice do I have? If I steal something from inside the fridge, Mistress would take one of the weapons and beat me with it,” Mason confessed, looking at the weapons hanging on the wall.

Christopher sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I know that it’s unfair, but you know you could’ve told me. I would’ve brought you food,” he told him.

“I know, but I didn’t want to get you into trouble. I didn’t want Mistress to hurt you, too,” Mason told him.

He nodded his head and took the empty bowl from him. He pressed his hand against Mason’s forehead and felt that he was still warm.

“I’m going to tell mother that you’re really sick. I don’t think she’ll want a sick slave working around the house,” he said, taking the bowl towards the sink in the kitchen.

Mason nodded his head weakly and buried his head back into the mattress. Christopher left the basement and walked up the stairs and entered the kitchen. He saw nobody there, which was usually odd since it was almost noon, and set the bowl in the sink.

“Master Young,” Amy greeted as she entered the kitchen.

He turned and looked at her.

“Casey told me something that might interest you,” she stated, looking at him.

“Whatever she’s telling you, she’s lying,” Christopher explained.

“She told me that you were cooking. I find that a bit strange since you don’t really like to cook,” Amy stated.

He bit his lip and looked at Amy.

“I just… wanted to make myself something,” Christopher explained weakly.

“I can see that, or maybe it has to do with a certain person who is sick in the basement,” Amy said, smiling lightly.

He paled and stared at her.

“What? I-I’m not doing that,” he stuttered, making her smile grow a little wider.

“It’s okay. I won’t tell that you’re taking care of Mason. Although, I would warn Mistress about how he’s sick. Luckily, Mistress found a new slave to entertain herself with,” Amy stated, setting herself to work for lunch.

Christopher nodded his head and made his way upstairs to see his mother. He walked up the stairs and went straight towards her room. He first knocked on her door before entering.

“Enter,” the voice said.

Christopher entered the room and it was a picture he didn’t want to see. His mother was spread out on the bed in very revealing lingerie in the color of black with a few weapons spread out on the bed.

“Christopher? What are you doing?” his mother asked him, sitting up from her position.

He was lost for words and didn’t know what to say. It took him a while until someone came through the door.

“Is this a bad time?” the man asked.

Christopher took a good look at him and saw that he has dark skin with dark eyes wearing a pair of jeans with suspenders. He was also very muscular. Now he remembered what he was going to say.

“Mason’s sick. He needs his day off for today,” he finally said.

Ms. Young rolled her eyes and shooed the man away. The man did and quickly closed to door behind him so the two could talk to each other.

“What was that about Mason?” Ms. Young asked.

“You heard me. Mason is sick and he needs his rest. So please, don’t do anything to him that’ll make it worse,” Christopher told her.

Ms. Young placed her hands on her hips and stared at him.

“I don’t think so. Mason is not sick. Want to know why? It’s because I know for a fact that he’s faking it. He’s trying to get out of his punishment that he’s supposed to do,” Ms. Young shouted.

“Mother, he’s sick! I took his temperature and saw that he does have a fever. He’s sick and he needs his rest,” Christopher shouted back.

“Christopher Young, don’t you dare talk to me like that,” Ms. Young warned.

“What can you possibly do, mother? I’m stating that Mason is sick and he can’t do anything right now. Mother, he’s really weak,” he explained.

Ms. Young rolled her eyes. She shooed him away and closed the door behind him. Ms. Young stood in the middle of the room with her hands on her hips. She couldn’t figure out why her only son was interested in that slave. He was nothing to either of them. He was just a waste of space that was living with them and fulfilled her needs. She took a deep breath and heard the door open. She looked up and saw her new slave enter the room.

“Ah, Jimmy. Just the person I need,” she purred.

Christopher walked down the stairs and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. He slouched as he walked, which he knows pisses his mother off to no end, but he couldn’t help it.

“Hey there, Christopher. Do you mind getting me the bucket on the top shelf?” Amy asked him when he walked past the kitchen.

“Of course,” he said, walking over towards the shelf and grabbed hold of the bucket.

“When I was first working here, I remembered you used to be up to my waist. Now look at you! Almost two feet away from me,” Amy said, holding the bucket.

Christopher chuckled and saw her going down to the basement with the yellow bucket.

“Why are you taking the bucket to Mason?” he asked her.

“He started throwing up when I went down there. He said that his stomach started hurting him and then threw up everywhere,” Amy confirmed, turning her head towards him.

Christopher followed Amy and saw Mason shivering and moaning in pain. Amy kneeled beside him and ran her fingers through his hair.

“Mason, Christopher and I are here. I brought the bucket with me,” Amy told him.

“Please, I don’t want him to see me this way,” Mason moaned out, clutching onto his stomach.

Christopher frowned and kneeled beside him and rested Mason’s head on his lap.

“Mason, I’m here,” he said softly, placing his hand on his forehead.

Mason cuddled up to him and clutched onto his waist.

“Sh. It’s okay. Everything will be okay,” he murmured.

He could feel Mason sobbing into his shirt and all he could do was run his fingers through his hair and try to comfort him as best as he could. He looked up at Amy, who was watching their exchange.

“I’m going to try to make him something to eat,” Amy said, setting the bucket down next to Christopher and walked out of the basement.

Christopher was left alone with Mason, who kept sobbing into his chest.

“I don’t feel so good,” Mason muttered into his shirt.

“It’s okay, Mason. Amy is going to make something for you to feel better,” Christopher told him, lying down next to him since he was getting uncomfortable kneeling down beside him.

“Every time I try to eat something, I hurl it back up. My stomach hurts too much,” Mason moaned out, burying his head into Christopher’s chest.

Christopher didn’t know whether Mason could hear his heart beat going crazy or not, but he was glad that Mason didn’t know because if he did, maybe Mason would know how much he actually likes and cares for the young boy.

“Why does your heart beat sound funny?” Mason asked against his chest.

Christopher bit his lip and said nothing. He heard footsteps coming down the stairs and he looked up to see if Amy had the food, but it wasn’t Amy.

“Mother?” he asked, his face paling.

Ms. Young placed her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow. She looked pissed.

“What are you doing with him?” Ms. Young asked.