The rest of the day finished without incident and Arden returned to his room, his mind swimming with questions, eager to pen them. When he returned however he was surprised to see that his mom was present, sitting in a chair knitting.
“You’re back early,” Arden stated, crossing behind the changing screen to replace his soiled work clothes with clean linens.
“I haven’t gotten to spend time with you since we moved here, I wanted to know how your job in the prison is going.”
“It’s fine.” He couldn’t tell his mom about his frequent conversations with Erebus, she would have him moved to a new job without hesitation. He knew that his short answer would not satisfy her so he attempted to add more information without adding anything suspicious. “It's dark and wet. A lot of scrubbing floors and replacing lamps.” This was all true of course, but he knew that was not the kind of answer she wanted.
“Make any friends?”
Arden choked on his own spit but he managed to mask it with a fake sneeze, grateful for the screen concealing his face. He never was very good at masking his facial expressions. “Not really. We are not around each other much, the prison is large and we are all responsible for different sections.” He finished changing and walked back into the room
“My poor boy, you must be so lonely. I’m sorry I cannot be around more.” She looked genuinely crestfallen.
“It’s okay mom, I like being alone.” This was true, he had always preferred his solitude, but it was not the truth of this situation. In reality he spent plenty of time with someone, but this someone was a demon.
Without looking up from her knitting, Arden felt her mood switch. “Your supervisor has spoken with me about something unsettling.”
His heart dropped into his stomach, his mouth felt like sandpaper as he struggled to swallow. “About what?” His voice cracked and he flinched at the guiltiness in his voice.
“He said you have been spending a lot of time in the cell with the demon and he is concerned about your mental health.” With this she looked up, her eyes staring into him.
“That room is part of my section of the prison, I spend a lot of time in there because it has been neglected for far too long.” He could feel his mom searching his face for signs of distress or deception. “The demon just sits in his cell, he has never said a word to me.”
She seemed somewhat satisfied by his response but still uncertain. “Just be careful. Those things are not to be trusted.” She returned to her knitting, seemingly done with the interrogation.
Arden wasn’t sure why, but he felt anger rise in him at her statement. He pushed it down and went over to the small desk in the room. He had to put the questions that had been consuming his thoughts all day down on paper before he exploded. He knew his mom would inquire as to what he was writing about, but she was illiterate so he was safe. He was grateful for that anyway. His hand flew as he tried to pen everything before the sun set and he would have to search for a new candle. He surprised himself with the amount of pages that poured out of him, notes of what he had discussed earlier along with new questions he wanted to ask littered the parchment in black scribbles. His penmanship was legible enough to him and that was enough to satisfy his urge to write. Finally cleansed of the tempest of thoughts, he fanned the pages with his hand until they were dry enough to fold and tuck into his small work bag.
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