Unseen

For the boy it had been a great Sunday afternoon, the first time he had ridden his bicycle without stabilizers. He could still feel the excitement as he realised his dad was no longer holding the back of his seat but better still was the the look of pride in his dads face. Once he was off there was no stopping him and he spent hours riding around the park until he was exhausted. That was why he had put up no fight when he was told it was bed time. Lying in bed looking at the poster on the ceiling of an elephant spraying water over its back from the trunk, he wished he could go on a safari. He rolled over to reach for his teddy bear but found nothing there. Confusion took him for a moment before he remembered putting it on the shelf. He felt a little guilty but now. His stabilizers were off he and he was grown up. He should not have a teddy bear in bed any more.

Watching the boy flick the switch on the bedside lamp plunging the room darkness he allowed his eyes to adjust to the gloom. This did not take long as his night vision was very strong. He looked across the now dark room at the mound in the bed. Anger did not come close to how he was feeling. He wanted to cause pain and suffering and could feel the urge building as the rage intensified. He had tried very hard to repress the urges he felt each day. Waiting now was difficult but his past experience had taught him patience. If he was going to have his fun he would have to wait.

The room was quiet, not even the ticking of a clock disturbed the peace. The only sound was the boy breathing. It was not yet the slow steady breath of deep sleep. The day had seen the boy riding solo for the first time and the boy had talked of nothing else since. He had already been in the bedroom and listening to the talk of the day. At one point the boy had come unexpectedly to the room. Only some fast reflexes had kept him from being discovered. Thinking about that shock now only added to the anticipation of what was going happen later. Not fully sure how this was going to play out. He felt a familiar surge of rage. He barely managed to suppress it and he knew it was going to be messy.

Daydreaming those pleasant thoughts made him miss the change in breathing. Now he was focused. The little snores coming from the small bed told him all he needed to know. Soon he would make his move and the fun could begin. Patience was required as the parents were still awake and downstairs. He wanted to take his time with this one and make him pay in pain. Time drifted on and there seemed to be no hope that they were ever going to go to bed. There had been a false alarm earlier when the dad had got up to put the kettle on. Listening to the kettle ping in the kitchen was a real nightmare. He knew that there was probably going to be another hour of waiting.

Passing the time by counting the boys breath he waited. Waiting until finally there was movement downstairs and the T.V. was turned off. The parents took their cups to the kitchen and rinsed them out. This was it, finally the waiting was over. The rage was to be unleashed in a violence this house would never see again.

He heard the mum go into the bedroom and the toilet flush in the bathroom as the father finished his business. Footsteps on the landing and a soft light bathing the boy on the bed. The father opens the door to check on his precious boy. Holding his breath he waits for the door to close. He wants to make his move but he hears the father chuckle and sees him step into the room. The father starts towards him and he holds himself dead still. Is he about to be discovered?. He feels the fathers hands as they pick him up and carry him to the bed. He is tucked under the boys arm in his usual place. The footsteps retreat and the door closes and night once more enfolds the room.....