Chapter Eight

Waylen sat patiently by the telephone. Clocks tick quietly each in unison with one another, annoying his sensitive ears. A crinkled piece of paper rests next to him, titled "itinerary" in bold. His almond-colored eyes flicker around the vicinity temporarily, before returning to the sad fixation on the telephone. 

"Does she not want to associate with me?" Waylen asks himself, unable to accept the truth in front of him. "Did I take too long?" 

Unexpectedly, no tears welled up in his confused eyes. Rather, a state of dumbfound and regret. If only he could have contacted her sooner... No, acceptance is needed. She decided this. They need a new profound sense of independence. 

In his heart, he knew they couldn't be together forever. For heaven's sake, they are nearly legal adults. By staying in isolation, only harm will ever be done in the name of protection. Maybe, by distancing himself Chess will have a better future. One where she can flourish while brimming with happiness. 

Unable to look at that damned phone any longer, Waylen slaps the crumpled itinerary off the counter, biting his red lips till they bleed. 

"TICK! TICK! TICK!" The clocks demandingly shout.

"Xa-vi-er." Waylen calls out, rubbing against the pair of scissors in his left palm. "Will you come play with me?" He whispers in a pleading voice. 

If Chess can't give him the time of day, he'll just turn his attention elsewhere. Or maybe, he can find a way to escape this hell of a place and confront Chess himself face to face as to why she can't answer a phone call.

He calmed down a little. Rationality is a funny thing, only a day ago did Waylen seem to harbor it. Now, it seems to be fleeting as the days grow close to his eighteenth birthday. There has to be a reason he was sent to this place without a word. There has to be reason for the mutual animosity between Xavier and him. 

The crumpled paper made its way back up onto the counter, with the word itinerary seemingly in red. Waylen's short, chubby, fingers made its way around the paper delicately smoothing it out so that it became readable.

11:00 Continue high school education

12:00 Fencing practice

13:00 Birthday Preparations

14:00 Self Study

15:00 Journal

19:00 Dinner 

After analyzing the schedule, it appears he hasn't missed anything. The ticking clocks point out the time, waving him to the library. As much as the clocks rushed him, Waylen couldn't help but think about the miniature personalities they seemed to carry with them. Each clearly containing traits only demonstrated on the faces of humans. It gave off the sensation that this place is in fact alive, and as isolated it may be, the whole place is teaming with both life and death. From the glasses of human blood soothing their throats to the speckles of red on the grass, everything contains vitality. 

As fun as dawdling around the estate may be, it could potentially be extremely dangerous. Knowing his luck, he may find himself in a cup next Friday night. So, naturally he made the executive descion to head straight to the library without too much skepticism. 

There, caretaker Johnthan Riggs awaited. Everything about his body orderly, which Waylen greatly appreciated, sitting in a wooden chair with a math textbook symmetrically placed in the center of a rectangular table. 

Johnthan Riggs greets him calmly, in a stagnant monotone voice. Clearly eying the clothes fitted onto his "defiant" body. 

Waylen stares back, then down to the carefully placed textbook. "This isn't going to end well." He thinks to himself, recalling last night's encounter. The caretaker may as well be killing him now, remedial math. Does he take him for an idiot? Returning his gaze back to the caretaker's, the gist of annoyance came through Waylen's now stone-cold face. For a fraction of a second, he could have sworn that old man's presence became that much warmer.

Johnthan Riggs prefunctly removes the textbook from the table, replacing it with an old calculous book. Suddenly, that remedial math book seems all the more appealing, work wise. 

In comparison to the public-school Waylen previously attended, Johnthan Riggs is top notch. His only fault being his vulture like gaze. The feelings were mutual, and it turns out the public school system truly didn't do this child dirty. Within a few days he expects Waylen to be preforming at a suitable level for this estate. Hopefully the other will be as reasonable academically. Just thinking about it, gives him a headache. 

Watching Waylen work methodically through the problems brought a sense of comfort to the room. Johnthan Riggs soon removed the vultures to do his own work at the rectangular table.

Part of Waylen wanted to take a sneak peak, however he ultimately refused, too engrossed to care. The atmosphere is much too peaceful to bring increased distrust into the mix. Xavier brought enough headache into his life, on top of the emotions the telephone call brought. The worth that came from finding out the caretakers' plans is almost zero, not to mention there's always tomorrow or the day after. Before taking up the route of the caretaker, the whole wing needs to be unlocked and carefully analyzed. As to if this place is truly a safe zone or a death trap all the more dangerous.