Taking Notes

Abel was trusted with finer, longer tasks. Mostly still the meandering jobs only meant to gobble up the morning and work up a healthy appetite, which Emile touted as crucial in his development.

"Lemme teach you how to peel an apple!"

Emile slowly guided his hands. Making sure Abel had the peeler in a proper grip, taking him through each step. "Keep it away from your hands. And no, it won't hurt you-hurt you, it still wouldn't be good to cut yourself."

He'd been given a big hug as a reward. Emile's praise was always too easy and too much.

Mew.

"Oh hello."

Toeing just shy of his bare foot, rubbing on the chapped, aggravated skin was a demure black little kitten with white blotches.

Putting down his load Abel took a tentative hand towards it.

Being licked by a warm, scratchy tongue.

The animal fit just so in his singular palm.

It had a collar on.

Abel let it rest on his shoulder, making way inside. Though quickly realizing just how crucial both hands had been to keep the egg basket balanced.

Either way he managed.

Presenting the cat Emile predictably squealed in delight.

"Oh did you make a new friend? Did he, did he," was turned toward the cat. Apathetically yawning and craning its neck with a deep, disgruntled mewl.

With a laugh, he continued to coy the cat out of its defenses. Primarily with a bottle of milk-- and where and why had he gotten the baby bottles-- then called the owners.

Briefly informing Abel with a vital hint of information. The house before they'd moved in had been an abandoned property and had needed renovation. Kids were discouraged from going inside back then.

"One still did of course and only one as I remember."

*******************************

Abel did eventually dare try the stairs.

The gates, estimated to be strictly identical for the moment, measured just below his head.

Theoretically they were no permanent obstacle.

There should be pillows on the steps proper.

On the chance he didn't land at some sort of crouch or stable footing broken legs or arms would set him back whole months. The concussion one or two weeks.

But at the absolute worst, no. Abel rubbed at his nape.

The tentative attempt had him hoist one leg over.

Silent, even his breathing stilled to better catch the meandering tune of Emile's hum and bubble of the boiling water for that day's dinner.

The bigger problem soon presented itself.

And that being, the railing designed gate with it's curving frame and slim width had too little supports and hand holds.

So that his second foot had nowhere to latch on. Flailing in the air so as to not be caught.

Overall a failure.

Preparing dinner so far, was the biggest distraction to count on. Presenting the longest uninterrupted portion of time to experiment and later implement a formal escape.

Then again, who knew when that was liable to change. His captor had guaranteed it would. Not simply contingent on his complacent passing of the daily activities.

There was more trials to conduct, tests to be done.

To have any kind of likelihood toward success: collect everything, the data, the variables, understand everything. And then apply that information with sensible scrutiny.

Explore his surroundings.

The second floor had four total doors.

His own room and at the right end a door to Emile's own bedroom. The house's 'Master Room.'

At the surface it has all the regular aesthetic and details of an adult's room. Purely functional and tidy. Though Emile chose much more personal touches and even some select books of his own.

About children or for children.

A cramped, tiny little door revealed extra blankets and towels neatly folded on a single ream of steel.

And at the left end of the single corridor, was a locked door.

At the start Emile had passed it over while explaining everything else. It was unused. For the moment. And that was all the explanation he would get, so don't even try had been cheerfully chided. Per usual, with no anger or even demand. Simply a friendly or perhaps, teasing, suggestion.

Possibly, his window was the most viable option.

Being the only one on the top floor and the mining helmet still made of a sturdy, resilient material to hopefully catch some of the impact.

Possible.

Explore other options before attempting, leave avenues open to keep the riskiest as the last resort.

A month or so has gone by now. Abel met one of the neighbors.

A shy, skittish sort of girl, who owned a cat. Living over the hill, the only visible feature being their silo.

Emile couldn't drive her away. If he did Abel could 'accidentally' slip as well.

So he had to allow them to speak when Violet wandered by on her walks.

******************************

Abel discovered her skulking around the thick wood fence.

Following her track, for a moment they locked eyes. Causing her to quickly duck in cover. Now completely obscured.

While he held the hose streaming a steady rain.

Fingers at the nozzle he concentrated the water into a stronger, much more aggressive spew.

Despite yowling at the cold she didn't leave or get mad. Most people would.

"Oh I'm sorry, I meant to shoot--" he'd pointed to a spot just beside where she'd been standing.

"My name is Violet. You returned my cat, let's talk."

Kids called each other all manner of things without meaning any of it.

However this girl was as touchy and liable to squawk as the poor hens.

"I see," he replied, careful of his face, making certain that no measure of suspicion did scare her off. "But get to the point quickly. This is about my being an unfamiliar face."

"I know all the faces here, and-- umm do you have to just stare? At? Me?" posing a finger to her own face. Which was slowly scrunching as she looked a bit more teary eyed.

"It is good manners," Abel got just a little closer, scrutinizing, not seeing something he was sure. Moreover, just how someone who knew everyone, could be an advantage in this situation.

In high society it was hardly a question.

Everyone had their use, everyone had the roles they fit into and what they could and could not accomplish with whatever ambitions suited their fancy.

Violet knew everyone here.

But as her bouts of silence proved she had no connections and no leeway within her village.

"Kids must not like you all that much."

Which really was too bad.

Violet was good company. Soft spoken and reserved, there was actually thought put into what she said... Most of the time. And she could admit herself to be a little stupid and lacking in places.

Among important, influential social circles there were always masks and nuance to work around. But rather, Violet in a town that "adored children" was simple.

Simple, he could work circles around.

***************************

Abel swung the axe high.

WHACK

Metal digging into a single thick log.

The unpleasant stirrings in his gut weren't exactly a novel sensation.

At first he hadn't had a clue what to pin the sensation on.

THUNK

THUNK

This work made an ample distraction.

CRRRK

Abel never did leave home.

He'd had no reason to feel...

WHACK

Homesick.

Then again, THUNK, there were things to miss about home.

THUNK

The feel of each cavernous room.

Raise.

The tender care of the maids.

THUNK

The familiarity of his own bed.

THUNK

THUNK

Having a say in when and when not to be touched.

CRRRRK

Knowing there was nothing looking on in the night to impede his rest.

Abel slouched, axe hung down and into the lawn for brief rest.

Wiping his brow, Abel let his bare toes wriggle.

If he were to... cut them off.

Then Emile would have no choice then to take him to the hospital.

Unless he truly would, so selfishly, gamble his precious son's life. No, Emile-- his captor-- wouldn't do that.

It would break all the promises, the very foundation that this entire endeavor is built upon.

And so, Abel could alert his doctors-- first responders-- to the situation.

Which there were set codes and procedures. To all manners from the medical emergency itself, endangering of minors. To armed threat and even bombs! Not that either would come into play too seriously.

It would hurt.

In his grip and thoughtful query the axe ground across the dirt with a rough scraping noise. Scabbing a moist, rich brown trail.

The body, had it's limits to prevent someone from doing this.

Shock would set in, perhaps too quickly for him to even scream.

That was possible and it was a possibility he had to consider. Consider everything.

If Abel were to try anything, he would have to be logical about it. Leave as little room for error as possible.

Such a ridiculous idea-- his hand shook in the grip-- such a gruesome, visceral idea could not be coming from a place of rational or even any manner of thought.

He was starting to gravitate towards impulse and emotional urges.

Fist tight to his chest Abel focused his curved angle of sight to something forward.

Took in deep, cleansing breaths, completely rooted to one spot.

And straightened himself up to continue the rounds.

Abel placed another log, raised the axe, and shifted his foot for a better cut.

THUNK.

The blade burrowed the last few inches.

CRRRRK

A figure stalked down the fence.

Today, Abel had decided to set his work in a fairly secluded portion of the property.

Though Emile had since allowed Abel the fairly unsupervised time. Keeping behind the kitchen window still an unmoving, unblinking eye.

Right at it's edges where their pruned pasture met the wilder, sprawling hill. Just where the silo peeked out.

Maybe that's where Violet had come from today.

"Do you want to see? I wouldn't recommend you tried though," he told her small huddled figure.

Who stood up, abashed and stubbornly refusing eye contact as usual.

Violet hopped up, delicately perched as if for a darling photo shoot, on the timber.

"That is pretty cool," she began.

Patient as he continued. Carrying silence, save for the steady rhythm of cutting logs inch by inch until they finally split.

Which tormented her, swaying and flailing her feet.

"You're barefoot. Why?"

CRRRK

Each piece thunked to the ground.

"Dunno just am."

"It isn't safe," Violet argued weakly, "does, he know that? Or is the guy stupid-- as you--" she rushed, "or... not. Nice?"

Abel didn't much lie. He left very little out and made no effort for excuses on what they both knew was not normal.

All in all, Violet's tensing posture and careful watch of the area proved she'd gotten the seeds he was planting.

A slow doubt, a... slight guilt to act. To say the word.

"That's a good question," he accepted. "I guess. Then again, I'd have to lie if that were the case. Wouldn't I?"

Just because most his age were stupid, didn't mean that the one who wasn't couldn't also be anyone.

"So he isn't. Isn't treating you right."

"No he is. I love him very much."

"Where do you come from?"

"You don't look alike."

"And you have very few social skills."

Violet frowned. "Foster families never hit you in the mouth."

"That's crass."

"Maybe... shouwuve."

Mumbling the retort so quietly he struggled to even parse it as words.

And she left as quick as she had come before he could ask for clarity.