✧ 13 ✧
A giant shadow was cast on Ilya, blocking the light and shattering any hope left in him. His posture crumbled like a scared little kitten facing a starving hound. Shoulders tensed, brows furrowed, and eyes grew wide, soaked with a glossy layer of tears.
When Ilya met Charlie's eyes, he watched a sea of green swirl in them with a threatening emotion. Was it anger? Was it hate? Or possibly hunger? Ilya couldn't tell.
"Well?" Charlie said, tilting his head. "Aren't you gonna tell me what were you planning to do?"
Ilya jumped again at hearing that thick voice. And the way Charlie's eyes bore into his soul, it was as if they could read his thoughts and emotions.
"I-I... Umm." Ilya lowered his gaze. "I was—"
With a choked exhale, the boy suddenly stopped talking.
He brought his trembling hands to his chest, wringing them together. He swallowed a burning lump in his throat. An alarming warmth cruised through his veins; it shook him from head to toe, paralyzing him physically and mentally.
He saw a knife in Charlie's hand.
The same knife used to slaughter the chicken and dismember the rabbits was pointing at him. Blood dripped from it straight to the few inches of ground separating them.
It was silent for a minute, except for Ilya's gasping breaths rattling his chest.
"Were you leaving already?" Charlie said, softly.
"No, no, no. Not at all." Ilya shook his head vigorously, pushing the words through his uneven breaths. "I'm actually looking forward to eating your lovely feast." He sniffed the air. "Mmm. Yum." A nervous chuckle left his mouth. "I could tell it's tasty from that smell."
Ilya hoped that his sweaty smile worked on Charlie; he seemed gullible enough to buy it. Ilya stared at those two sad eyes that belonged to this towering man for too long, waiting for his response.
Charlie moved the knife, causing Ilya to flinch; he thought Charlie was going to stab him. However, Charlie was only pointing at the window.
"Then, what were you doing he'e?"
Ilya clutched his chest as he stared at that knife. His heart was racing a thousand miles a minute. He almost felt it jumping out of his ribcage.
"Ilya..." Charlie bent down to the boy's level. "Are you Alright?"
Ilya didn't want to see Charlie's eyes again. Caught red-handed in a useless attempt to escape, the boy felt like a prisoner under Charlie's stare alone.
"I'm-I'm not sure," Ilya answered, breathlessly.
Ilya slowly looked up and glimpsed the splattered blood on Charlie's face, dripping down his crimson-stained beard. His arms and rolled-up sleeves were red. His whole outfit turned darker, soaked in blood.
Charlie looked like he was about to kill somebody, and probably soon.
"What's the matter?"
"Charlie..." Ilya started with a quivering voice. "Could you... put the knife down, please?"
Charlie glanced at the knife before gazing back at Ilya. He squinted his eyes, then scoffed. He took a step closer.
"You think that I would hurt you?"
"No, no." Ilya shook his head and stepped back. "I didn't say that."
"You don't have to be afraid, ye know?" Charlie chuckled with a hint of sadness in his voice. "I'm not a bad person."
As Charlie took one step forward, Ilya took one backward.
"I know. I know."
"But you seem scared of me." Charlie lowered his knife. "After everything I did for you."
Ilya backed away, fighting back tears. His chin quivered, letting out a whimper when his back bumped into a wall. He was trapped in a corner.
"I'm not..."
"Seriously, are you alright?" Charlie peeked too close at Ilya's face. "You seem a bit paler."
"I'm—" With a gasp, Ilya embraced himself and broke down in tears. "I-I don't know what to think anymore. I'm so tired."
"Shhh. No, no. Don'y cry." Charlie raised his palms, trying to calm the boy down. "It's alright."
"Please," Ilya begged with eyes flooded with tears. "Just leave me alone."
"OK, OK." Charlie backed away. "And look." He placed the knife on the coffee table, then raised his palms again. "No knife. Ye see?"
Ilya closed his eyes and bowed down, cowering onto himself. Tears dripped onto the dusty floor, doubling with every sob.
"Don't cry. Please."
Ilya peeked his face from between his hands and caught Charlie's expression. That was when he realized something—Charlie might actually be worried about him.
An idea popped into Ilya's mind.
When his sobs quieted down into sniffles, he raised his head and wiped his tears.
Once Ilya stopped crying, Charlie finally took a deep breath.
"Feeling bettah?"
"Sorry about the window. I wasn't trying to go anywhere, especially in this stormy weather." A cute chuckle escaped his lips. "I just needed some fresh air." The boy shrugged. "I'm feeling dizzy—" he pointed at his wrapped head "—from... you know?"
"Ohhhh." Charlie smacked his head in realization. "Of course! Of course! Let me help you."
When Charlie headed to the window, Ilya smirked for only a second. Then he leaned on the walls as he pulled himself up.
"No wonder you've been acting so weird," Charlie chuckled.
Ilya cocked an eyebrow. I'm the one being weird?
Charlie easily pulled the window open. The wind blew a few snowflakes into the house. The outside was fully covered in white.
"Woah. It's chilly out there," Charlie said before turning to smile at Ilya. "If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen. Just holler."
"Thanks." Ilya smiled back as he took a seat on the couch. "I'm feeling better already."
Charlie tipped his hat. Then, with stompy steps, he went back to the kitchen.
"Ye're in luck," Charlie started as he checked the meat in the oven.
"Dinner's almost ready," Then he stirred some gravy on the stove and tasted it.
"Oh, this gravy is too bloody good." He nodded.
"I like to keep my meat medium rare so they won't lose their juices.
" He opened the oven door and poked the rabbit meat with a fork.
"Yup. Just about done." He grabbed some salt and pepper and seasoned the meat more.
"Mum always said, a last bit of sprinkles goes a long way.
" He pulled the tray of meat and smelled it. "Ah, look at this beauty."
"Just—" Charlie proudly turned around to show Ilya the food "—per—" his smile dipped when he didn't find him on the couch "—fect."
He looked left and right, then it hit him.
"Oh, bullocks!"
Ilya ran away, again.