(no subject)
The door had been one of the most welcome sights he could imagine. He'd been anxious about the state of his lab, and Adam, for a while.
So it was with excitement and a small amount of dread that he opened the door. Everything seemed to be the same. He looked at his automatic calendar and saw that only a week had gone by. Relief flooded through his system. Surely the child had survived a mere week.
"Adam? Are you alright?" It annoyed him that his voice wasn't stable, that he was genuinely worried. It never paid to get attatched to the experiments. The lack of an answer worried him, so Essex reached out with his telepathy. . .and found nothing. Cursing, he went to the nursery. Nothing. The kitchen was similarly empty, but there was less food and milk than when he'd left. The boy hadn't starved to death, then.
It was in the library he found the boy. Had he not been four feet tall and still built like a child, the poor thing could have passed for eighty. Essex sat and stared at the oddly aged child, puzzling over this latest development. He did not cry, because monsters don't cry. But he stroked the boy's hair fondly, before picking him up. Might as well do an autopsy to see if it was an age related problem that killed him.
So it was with excitement and a small amount of dread that he opened the door. Everything seemed to be the same. He looked at his automatic calendar and saw that only a week had gone by. Relief flooded through his system. Surely the child had survived a mere week.
"Adam? Are you alright?" It annoyed him that his voice wasn't stable, that he was genuinely worried. It never paid to get attatched to the experiments. The lack of an answer worried him, so Essex reached out with his telepathy. . .and found nothing. Cursing, he went to the nursery. Nothing. The kitchen was similarly empty, but there was less food and milk than when he'd left. The boy hadn't starved to death, then.
It was in the library he found the boy. Had he not been four feet tall and still built like a child, the poor thing could have passed for eighty. Essex sat and stared at the oddly aged child, puzzling over this latest development. He did not cry, because monsters don't cry. But he stroked the boy's hair fondly, before picking him up. Might as well do an autopsy to see if it was an age related problem that killed him.