Wolf in Sheep Clothing

Child

"I don't want to move again," A tiny and otherwise bratty voice said. The little boy pulled his arms free from his mother's hold and crossed them, his face twisted into a scroll while glaring eyes met with a similar, though older, pair only to later be redirected to his worn sneakers when his mother gave him the look.

Hard eyes, right brow raised and a slight frown of the lips. This was her bitch face. The one that silently told him that she was tired, annoyed and not above disciplining him at the front door of his school.

"I don't have time for this Tory" She voiced with a sigh. Lowering herself to a knee. "Be a good boy and help mommy-"

"I have friends here" The younger Tory insisted, his voice louder then he attended as he caught the attention of a few passersby. As a child of only 8, he hadn't notice and simply went on. "I like my teacher and Fifi's birthday is this weekend. I was invited, I can't just leave" He argued.

"There will be other birthday parties honey" His mother responded softly, reaching out a hand with the intention of running her fingers through his hair.

Her hand was wrinkled, the skin of fingers and her nails, both thin and weakened under years of hard work. She was barely in her thirties and yet she had the hands of a middle-aged carer housekeeper.

Later in life, Tory would look back on this day, remember her hands, how rough and rigid they were. How warm her touch felt against his cheek. He'd understand the hours she worked, the sacrifice she'd made for him, because of him.

But at 8, His mother hands were nothing special, their strength, their warmth, their hold and comfort were normal, natural. And so he could easily move away from her touch.

"You said that last time" He reminded her. "I don't want another one, I want this one" He declared stomping his feet. His eyes stinging behind his glare. He sniffed loudly and furiously wiped as his eyes. Too shy and embarrassed by his shed tears to look up at his mother.

"We can't stay" He heard her say, and he isn't shocked at all.

As long as he could remember they have never stayed more than a handful of months in one place. Always moving from one land, one cheap pay-as-you-go apartment to another. But this one had lasted longer, they had been here for almost a year. He had started to think it would be forever.

"Too long" She added and he almost thought he hadn't heard those words. Wide Honey eyes stared up as it's matching, wiser pair.

"We're staying?" He asked in a voice of disbelief. Only to frown when his mother shook her head "Only until the party" She informed him. "You'll get to go and say goodbye to friends. We'll leave right after!"

Tory frown, the stinging behind his eyes returning as he lowered his gaze. It wasn't what he wanted but it was something. His little shoulders fell and he grunted in displeasure.

"Okay"

Refusing to react when his mother hand rested on his head and tossed his hair.

"One day we won't have to move anymore" She promised.

She'd made him a number of promises to him. But that one he remembered the most.

How could he not? It was the last promise she ever made.

....

Tory was neither locked or restrained upon his awakening. But the room in which he opened his eyes was surely not his own. It was larger, grander with more space then he could possibly need.

It was like a suit, the queen size bed overlooking a tastefully decorated sitting area. Equipped with a couch, two armchairs a coffee table and a stand completed with a large TV and system. To its left was a door. To it's right an equipped kitchen, bothered by an island and four stools. It was dark, though the lights were on they shone a mystic blue. The somber painted walls, grey carpet,and dark furniture only added to the gothic atmosphere.