✧ 35 ✧
A trembling hand reached to the side of Charlie's hairy frame. A hand so delicate it felt like a swipe of cozy blankets against Charlie's rough skin. A single hand was the only part of Ilya's body that wasn't injured clutched Charlie and wouldn't let go.
Like a baby seeking the comfort and safety of his mother, Ilya buried his bruised face in the fur of Charlie's chest, and then he cried.
"Charlie. I'm sorry that I left. I'll never do it again, just please help me."
Hours, probably days, of suffering alone in Beast's lair came out all at once in heart-wrenching muffled sobs.
Charlie froze from the sudden change in the boy's behavior towards him. His hazel eyes widened from the unexpected friendly hug, as opposed to the fear-induced moves when they first met.
The old man's heart broke piece by piece with every painful sob that came out of this helpless sweet human boy.
His eyes softened. A hurt smile stretched the corners of his lips. And his muscular arms finally moved to wrap around the small boy's frame, embracing him in a warm embrace.
Charlie stroked Ilya's soft messy hair and whispered comforting words into his ears.
"It's alright, lad. I'm he'e. I'll protect you."
Charlie didn't wait for the boy to stop crying. He kept his beastly eyes on the door while trying to shush Ilya and calm him down. Time was not on their side. Staying in a zombie-infested building a second longer meant death for both of them.
Ilya knew that too, as it didn't take long for his sobs to diminish into hiccups.
Charlie got up to his feet and gently took Ilya's hand.
"Come on, now. Let's get—"
Charlie stopped abruptly and let go of Ilya's hand when he raised his head.
The boy's new appearance broke something inside him and brought tears to his eyes.
This was not the same boy who entered his house the other day.
That boy looked clean and healthy. However, this boy looked like another zombie, a trembling twitching human on the verge of dying.
"It's so cold," Ilya said, shivering.
Pale sickly-white skin was stained red. A torn hoodie was wrapped around his neck to serve as an arm-slinger for a broken arm. Blue pants turned crimson and filthy. And that once beautiful symmetrical face was now half-stained with blood oozing out of a bruised cut on the eyebrow.
But Charlie wasn't worried about any of that. The only dreadful thought in his mind was, Has the lad been bitten? Especially when he saw blood coming out of the boy's shoulder.
That's a wound.
A dark cloud of panic loomed over Charlie's face, and it scared Ilya.
"What?" the boy wiped the blood and tears off his face and asked. "What is it?"
Charlie turned his gaze to Ilya and said, "Were you bitten?"
"No." Ilya jerked his head. "Nothing bit me."
Charlie knelt to examine the wound, but it sent a jolt of panic up the boy's spine.
Charlie stopped to give Ilya an assuring gaze. When Ilya was relaxed enough, Charlie wiped the blood off of his shoulder, earning a wince of pain from the boy. Then he gently traced the opening of the wound.
Charlie let out a sigh of relief. It was just a cut. An infected cut that needed to be treated right away, but anything was better than a zombie's bite.
Sharikers were heard from a distance that pulled both Charlie and Ilya's attention.
Charlie's friendly face shifted to Ilya. He saw the fear in the young lad's eyes and the rising and falling of his little chest. All the more reason to protect this vulnerable innocent soul.
"Can you walk? At least until we get out of here?" He smirked. "So I can fight off those filthy maggots."
"I... Umm." With a tired nod, Ilya answered, "I think so."
Charlie helped Ilya up, but the latter had a tough time balancing on his two feet. Charlie had to walk Ilya out of the room by gently holding him up by his upper arm. Once they were out of the room, they followed the path that was illuminated by sunlight.
"This way," Charlie said.
Suddenly, Ilya got pulled back. His arm slipped out of Charlie's grip.
"Charlie!" Ilya shouted in distress.
Charlie quickly turned and saw Ilya trapped between the hands of a seven-foot-tall man with frizzy hair and a fur coat.
"Not so fast, Brittany." Beast grinned with sharp teeth, shining his yellow eyes at the British senior. "The boy's mine."
"Charlie," Ilya cried as Beast's harsh grip tightened on his neck. "Help."
"Shut up," Beast said through written teeth and a terrifying closeness to Ilya's ear. "Or I'll rip your head off."
The boy whimpered and settled for squeezing his eyes shut, letting heavy tears wash the blood off his paling face.
Charlie hunched his back and raised his palms. Despair showed in the wisdom of his eyes. Not taking any step toward the untamed beast, but opening his mouth to plead.
"Billy, please. Don't hurt him."
Addressing Beast by that name was a mistake ridiculed with a burst of scornful laughter.
"Billy?" Beast scoffed. "Oh, come on, old man. You, of all people, know that Billy's been dead for 30 years." His eyes slanted with an evil smirk as he said, "It's just Beast now, thanks to you."
But that didn't stop Charlie from trying.
"Billy. I know you're in there. So, listen to me."
Beast shook his head and laughed at the old man's pathetic attempts. Then he stared back at Charlie and pretended to listen for what he had to say.
Charlie dropped his arms and sighed. The dim light reflected through the hint of tears in his eyes. A painful memory visited him and showed on his face once he glimpsed another look at the boy taken hostage.
That fluffy soft hair. Those light heavenly eyes. That sweet baby face.
"He looks like him," Charlie told Beast with a heavy sigh and a broken voice. "He looks like my boy, Ned."
Beast's crooked smile vanished.
No scornful comments. No threatening actions. Beast simply froze. The look in his eyes traveled past the old man in front of him, and the cold yellowness eased into a warm brown shade.
Then he spoke, "Get out."
"Billy," Charlie said in a compassionate tone.
"I said, get out!" Beast snapped with a deafening roar. "And don't you dare say his name after what you did!"
"No, no, no," Ilya whimpered. "Please don't leave me with him."
Then he gasped when a sharp claw scratched his neck.
"Now," Beast threatened.
"Alright." Charlie showed his palms in surrender. "I'm leaving." He slowly backed away, earning a heartbreaking whine from Ilya. "Just promise me that you won't hurt him."
"Heh." Beast smirked. "Why should I promise you anything?"
Charlie lowered his head in shame. Then he slowly retreated.
"So long, old fart."
When Beast raised his hand to wave a sarcastic goodbye, Ilya tried to escape but was quickly captured.
"No!" Ilya yelled and struggled so weakly in the strong grasp of Beast. "Let me go! Charlie!"
Charlie turned his back to hide his tears as he walked away. With every cry for help that came out of that boy's mouth, Charlie felt a piece of him break inside.
"Charlie!"
Beast chuckled at the boy's helpless little struggle to break free. Knowing that he could hurt the old man by taking this boy away from him brought him so much joy. Hearing the boy cry until his voice turned hoarse was music to his ears... or it used to be.
"Looks like you're not going anywhere, kid," Beast said before throwing him on his shoulder. "Let's go back to my floor."
"No!" Ilya stretched his arm towards the old man. "Charlie, don't leave me!"
"Come on." Beast gently tapped the boy's butt as he secured him on his shoulder, then walked the other way. "Time to go."
"Charlie! Please, don't leave me with him!"
Charlie wiped his tears and vanished without a word.
"Charlie!"
Ilya's heartbreaking cries faded through the dark hallways.
"Charlie..."