Chapter 9 The Wisdom of the Father (1/2)

Rassa had decided he hated the daytime. It was obnoxiously loud, and bright. So bright. It peirced through his vision and made his head ache so bad that he had to ask his mother to cover the windows. After that the Doctor spent a lot of time looking at his eyes with concern. That was also irritating.

The hunger had also not gone away. In fact, he felt worse than yesterday, and unfortunately his parents were beginning to notice. Whereas last night he had been active and hungry enough to eat three bowls of soup, during the day he refused any food in large amounts. He usually took a mouthful or two, and then turned away in disappointment.

”You should eat more, Rassa, you won't get better like this,” Anna insisted.

Only under his mother's worried gaze did Rassa force himself to finish a bowl of food. After she left, Rassa turned to look at his father, the only other individual in the room with him. Rassa had always been close with his father, he had always known that his father was more than the farmer everyone saw. He was pretty sure everyone knew one way or another, but no one had ever spoken about it. Now, seeing the look in his father's eyes, Rassa couldn't help but feel conflicted. His father knew something, something that Rassa wasn't sure would help him or not.

”I'm okay, really,” Rassa insisted.

Phillip sighed, ”No you're not Rassa. You're a smart kid, trying to hide your pain so that no one will worry for you. But I hate to break it to you, it's only making your mother and I worry more”.

Rassa turned away, hugging his knees to his chest as he looked at the blanket that covered the window. Just because his parents knew, didn't mean he could tell them, or that they could help if he did.

”Are you going to tell me what's wrong?” asked his father.

Phillip had always been good at sensing when something was wrong with Rassa. The boy wore his emotions plainly, and even if he could hide them from his mother at times, he couldn't hide from Phillip. Phillip knew his son was a spitting image of him, eager for knowledge and always willing to do hard work. Phillip had even managed to teach Rassa how to read like had had once taught Anna. Rassa had soaked in the knowledge like a sponge, but Phillip had instructed him not to brag to the other kids, as he knew that there were very few adults in the village who were literate, let along children. And now, despite his best wishes, he could see his son turning away from him. Rassa knew something, and he was keeping it hidden.

”Rassa,” Phillip sighed, ”I can't help if you don't tell me. You know exactly what happened to you, don't you? You know but you're not saying. Why is that?”

Rassa looked up at his father, his eyes pleading him to stop. To not ask questions. Phillip had never seen that look in his eyes before. And underneath all of that pleading, Phillip could see the fear. He saw the terror, and he hated the fact that his son had to experience that.

Phillip stood and approached his son, pulling him into a hug, ”This is not something you have to go through alone, Rassa. Please, all you need to do, is ask”.

Rassa buried his head in his fathers chest, trying his best to ignore the amazing scent and rhythmic beating that lay just beneath his father's skin. Phillip was completely unaware of his son's dilemma, and was instead concentrating on comforting Rassa, something he had rarely had to do.

”The mark on my back,” Rassa spoke softly, and he felt his father tense, ”What is it?”

Phillip sighed, ”I hoped you wouldn't notice until you felt better”.

Rassa frowned. He remembered every line as it burned into his skin and soul, as if he would forget it was there, he just hadn't known what form it had taken until last night when Diggory pointed it out.

Phillip pulled back, ”Does it scare you?”

Rassa hesitated and then nodded, ”But...I know it won't go away. I can feel it-” Rassa pointed to his chest, ”In here”.