Caster sniffs, and I hand him a cloth to wipe his nose. He's still very sick, his eyes glassy and his face flushed. Thankfully his temperature has gone down; the alien looks a little more awake as he sits up in my bed watching me get ready for the day.
"Cas come down too?" he asks, voice croaky.
I give him a rather firm look as I pull on a pair of socks. "No, you need to rest."
He pouts, sinking into the covers.
It's probably a good sign that he wants to get up and about already.
He spent the night in my bed, tossing and turning and spluttering. I honestly didn't sleep much; I was too busy making sure he had a cool cloth to wipe the sweat away and the covers didn't fall from his figure during the night.
It seems my all-nighter has paid off, however. Caster should be right as rain in a few more days.
"You can go outside later if you're feeling a little better, but if I catch you workin' in the garden, Caster, I swear I'll drag you back up here by your toes."
He begins to whine, but when he hears the threat, Caster nods fervently.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I head into the kitchen to tidy up. Early this morning, when Caster kept kicking me in bed, I went downstairs with some of the paints Aliston left me to keep my mind occupied. Lavere also happened to be having a hard time sleeping, so I took the two of us into the kitchen. Since he always just... sits there, he became an easy reference to paint in the dull light of the morning.
Picking up the unfinished painting of Lavere, my elbow knocks the glass of dirty paint water, causing it to spray water all over the bench.
Cursing, I try grab a tea towel from beside the sink and begin to mop up the mess, keeping the water from dripping onto the floor.
"How is your hand?"
I jump, spinning on my heel to see Aliston standing in the entranceway of the kitchen.
"It's, uh." I glance down at my still bandaged hand and back up to his face. "How'd you know about that?"
He raises one of his perfectly sculptured brows. "Why would I not? Avørek mentioned you may be behind schedule due to your injury."
Right.
"Well, uh," I stutter as I clear my throat. "I can still do them; it's just going to take me a little longer."
He hums, stepping into the kitchen, his eyes briefly looking over the mess on the counter before he reaches out to grab my hand.
I tense up, cautiously watching as the older alien inspects the bandaged appendage.
"I see Avørek treated this for you."
"Yeah, yeah he did."
Aliston turns my hand over. "I assume you two have made up then."
I flinch, pulling my hand out of his grasp and back into my chest.
"What do you mean?"
He tilts his head. "He helped you. You must have forgiven him for his misbehaviour yesterday to let him treat you."
"Misbehaviour?"
Misbehaviour? He calls almost killing me, a misbehaviour? My blood was almost splattered across the hallway! Does he really think I would forgive his crazy, blood thirsty son?
"Yes." His voice snaps me out of my thoughts and into a boiling rage.
"So, you think, because I broke my hand due to your son harassing me while I was doing my job, that I forgave him for almost killing me?"
He doesn't respond. If anything, he looks a little concerned as I grit my teeth and try not yell. My face has no doubt turned an ugly shade of red, my anger heating my body by a couple degrees.
"I didn't," I spit, disgusted that he would think I would brush off such a violent assault. "I never will. Your son is a monster and a killer! I don't know 'bout you aliens, but humans don't take so kindly to murderers!"
He straightens up when my voice rises, and his usual expressionless face turning into a cold glare. It would probably be wise to stop before I say something that'll get me fired, but I can't let this go.
"What is wrong with you people?" My hands fly out beside me as I speak. "You defend your son when he's acting like an animal? You think it's normal to go 'round killing your employees? Well it's not! And if you think it is, you're as sick as your fucking son." I hiss the last words at him, spinning around and moving back to pack up the rest of my painting stuff.
I toss the dirty towel into the sink, too angry to stay in the same room as that man, no that thing, to clean it properly. Tucking my painting under my arm and balancing the rest against my chest with my good hand, I brush past Aliston.
"I apologize." His words halt me on the spot.
"It seems I have grown too used to the ways of my species. I have forgotten what it would be like for a human." Aliston turns, taking a step towards me as I stand stock still. "You are right. My son's actions are inexcusable."
I can't believe he's actually apologizing to me.
"However." Of course, there's a 'but'. "You are my employee. Avørek is my son. If it ever does come to me defending anyone, I will always pick my son."
I don't bother acknowledging his words, my anger still simmering beneath my skin.
He may be my boss, but he's the one in the wrong. He's the one that's letting his son get away with blood on his hands. He's the one that let his son hold me against a wall and attempt to force me into something I clearly didn't want to do.
Why does he act like he cares about me if he's happy to let his son attack me? Why check over my injuries or buy me things like books, and paints, and clothes, when he doesn't even care if I live or die?
°°°°°°°°
Angry angry aliens. What do you think? Should Aliston be defending his son?
YOU ARE READING
Hope
Science FictionEarth has changed. Overpopulated by alien species and humans, nothing is as it once was. Society has taken a turn for the worse, at least, that's how Emery sees it. He's lost his family, his job, and he's lost the one place he could call home. Now...
