Chapter Four

The flickering lights teased Charles' eyelids. Within the

phosphene, he could see several lights dancing flirtatiously with each other.

He opened his eyes to see the bulb which emanated the lights.

He tried to sit up but the intense pain reminded him that

his initial position was currently the best for his body state.

He tried to recollect the last events before he fell

unconscious. All he could remember was falling upon Christina before suddenly

waking up in this location.

He turned around - trying to understand which environment he

was in. There were flickering flashes of lights if he remembered correctly and

if he had been abducted by the people holding those flashlights. He would most

likely be in a hospital and of course, that spelled doom for the resplendent

Christina.

To his amazement, he saw posters of different plants and

animals hung around the room. His face unconsciously creased with astonishment

as his eyes kept darting from one poster to another.

The bed he laid on was very small and his tall muscular

frame was barely enough for the bed.

He recognized the bed model, it was usually designed for

girls due to their relatively smaller frames but this made no sense. The only

way this was possible was if...

All of a sudden, the lugubrious sounds of vomit reached his

ears. He recognized the sound - it was Christina. He couldn't tell much but

based on the way she sounded, she was in intense pain as the vomiting sound was

accompanied by groans of agony.

Ignoring the pain in his body, he threw his legs out of the

bed. He collapsed to the ground and looking onward, he crawled towards the

door.

Gritting his teeth with all he was worth, he didn't relent

as he pushed forward.

After crawling for a while, he resolved himself and stood to

his feet. He felt his knees tremble with every force he exerted but the groans

coming from the other end of the house were his motivation to keep moving.

Each second felt like a minute - time had a knack for moving

slower when one is in pain. But after what felt like an hour, Charles had stood

to his feet.

He tried his hardest and walked towards the toilet. If he

could run, he would have but walking was all he was presently capable of.

Following the sounds, he soon came upon poor Christina who

was vomiting tirelessly in the toilet. Her face was pale and swollen - her eyes

dried and red as if she had been crying.

She had a statuesque figure but this time, she appeared lean

and dehydrated. There were open packs and tins of food scattered around the

area where she was. Charles felt pity for her and he didn't understand it - it

was the same feeling he felt yesterday. "What was it about this girl that

makes me feel things I have never felt!" Charles would never realize he

had spoken aloud until he saw Christina's head turn in his direction. He was a

bit stunned but her next reaction astonished him even more. As soon as she

looked at him, she dramatically turned away - her eyes opened wide, her lips

spread apart briskly, and a red coloration appeared on her cheeks - as if she

saw something she wasn't supposed to see.

As expected, Charles was even more confused. He looked down

and saw the reason for Christina's sudden turn. His genital was erect - he had

been in so much pain and worry that he had completely forgotten about his

morning wood.

"I have a boyfriend," Christina said, her face

still turned away from him.

"Ooh," Charles' demeanor dropped - his eyes turned

to the ground as he was left speechless.

Christina turned at him, she also couldn't deny it. There

was something she felt for him but she had been with Jason for a long time. And

yes, he cheated on her with his sister but that doesn't mean she would throw

away all their memories.

Perhaps, if she had met him earlier, things would have been

different but she already had someone. If she remembered correctly, Jason had

tried to get her so he couldn't be that bad.

Charles didn't know what to say but he recollected a memory

when he and his father had gone fishing while he was ten years old.

Charles had trouble expressing his emotions, and most times,

he didn't feel any emotion even when he was expected to.

As a result, he had trouble fitting in with other kids but

he could never bring himself to care. He remembered once while he and his

father were walking through the forest.

The pond was on the other side of the forest so usually,

fishermen had to pass through the forest to hunt for fishes.  Fortunately,

the only wildlife present in the forest were deer which were only hunted during

a particular season.

The day he and his father walked towards the pond was an

off-season - not the period where people could hunt for game in the forest.

His father had spoken and laughed excitedly - his face was

as cheery as a sunbeam. Charles looked at his father, and unlike his father,

his face was devoid of any emotional expression. He was indeed the paragon of

autism.

All of a sudden, a gunshot was heard. The excitement on his

father's face disappeared immediately and the lines on his face curved to show

anger.

Turning in the direction of the gunshot, his father ran as

fast as he could. Charles took after his father even though he didn't share the

same sentiment for the event that took place.

His father soon came upon an injured deer, a man was walking

towards the deer - he was young and his facial features resembled that of a man

in his early twenties. He looked pleased with himself but Charles' father

didn't feel that way.

Charles looked in the distance and saw a baby deer running

for its dear life. Based on the tracks, Charles could infer that the initial

target of the hunter was the baby deer, the mother must have jumped in the way

- the mother's tracks seemed to be heading from the west while the hunter came

from the south meaning he was probably aiming north. It would have been

inconvenient for him to aim at either the west or east as the dense vegetation

would have made that a herculean task.

The only clear line of sight was in the north and the only

creature with consistent tracks in the north was the baby deer. The mother must

have sensed her son somehow and leaped in the way just to ensure that her child

had a chance to live.

He didn't know what to feel and frankly, he didn't care. He

just understood what happened but he didn't feel the emotions that the event

was supposed to invoke.

He heard his father's footsteps come behind him and it was

then that his eyes turned at the young hunter.

The hunter laid on the ground, his forehead swollen as his

father had beaten him to a pulp while Charles was trying to understand what

happened.

He turned to his father who was crying profusely. It was

ironic - his father was the most emotional man he ever met and he, the son

rarely felt any emotion.

"Father," Charles began weakly. " Why did the

mother sacrifice herself to save the child? It can just mate with another adult

and make more kids."

His father's face suddenly metamorphosed to show his

astonishment - he had not expected such a reply.

"It's love, son," his father said after a while.

"My prayer for you is that one day you experience that love. And when you

do, you protect the object of that love at all costs."

"Object of love?"

"Yes, like a person," His father replied as a

solemn expression of contentment washed over his face. "In my case, it was

your mother."

"I thought it was wrong to objectify women."

"You know your statement has woman has an object,"

his father gleamed brightly.

"I'm sorry for neglecting your teachings," Charles

bowed his head curtly. "I promise to do better."

His father laughed heartily as he turned at his child. He

was indeed a piece of work but he loved him regardless. "It's a joke, son.

Who knows, your object of love might cause you to understand the spectrum of

emotions that is available to humanity."

"Are you saying that's the sign? If I can express the

emotions that everyone else does. Does that mean I have finally found the

object of love?"

"No, son. It's just a joke," his father laughed.

Charles looked at his father and thought to himself. 'Father is not happy but

yet he smiles. I know this because his orbicularis oculi is not contracted.

He's usually this way when he has to lie. Does that mean the object of love is

someone who will make me feel these emotions? I don't know what emotions are

but Father wants me to. Father loves me so it must be good - I promise you,

Father. If I ever find the object of love, I will treasure and protect the

object even at the expense of my life.'