Beyond control

' Give him more dose '. He ordered as he watched Fred travail to liberate himself.

' Sir? '. The doctor asked with his eyes widening more upon the father's request.

' I said give him more dose '.

***

In the dark room, Fred wrestled with the ropes and chains, bending to one side and sometimes trying to release the blindfold from his eyes. He stopped when he heard an unlocking sound from above him, like a lock of metals giving way. He heard again a machine driving downwards and soon he felt a syringe being pierced into his skin.

No matter the bundles of pain he felt on his shoulders, he grunted only, tauting his muscles at intervals. His veins popped out of his neck and his forehead. He could feel it flowing into him. The anesthesia drug. A smirk appeared on his face amidst the torture.

Why would his father inject him more when he was restrained and harmless? Fear. His dad feared the worst even in his discomfort.

The syringe in the machine shove deep and he could feel it empty its contents into his streams, release him and dabble something over the wounds. It was the effects for him, as the drug worked as fast, filling his insides with the weakness.

Fred travailed more. He struggled against himself and not just against the weakness. He was his weakness. The drug effects tried to numb his body and his mind and his brain, but he alone could accept to be weak and feeble and those were things he gave no space in his dictionary. He struggled to keep them awake and alive. The restraint seemed to have gotten firmer and harder but he continued still, struggling against them.

**

' It is not working. Give him more '.

In his many years of experience, he had not seen a father so ruthless and heartless. A father ready to sacrifice his son for his own good, so when the command came for him to inject more dose, he just looked in bewilderment. For the number of doses given, he was sure that if the young man did survive and lived, his body and mind won't be in proper shape, but the father was persistent, dosing, if not overdosing.

' What are you waiting for? If you are not doing it, then let me '. He heard only the question where the first words seemed to have drowned with the breeze that the man left behind when he raced to the lever and pulled it down.

He pushed the glasses up his nose and watched with nursed aggression the machine entering the room and piercing the man. He saw his struggles become intense. The father was not removing the injector, neither was he stopping the flow of the fluid.

' That's enough '. He pleaded. ' He may not survive it '.

The groans, the screams, his father was not relenting, pushing the lever up and injecting the fluids into his streams.

' Sir, you really have to stop. You may kill the boy '. The lever was driven higher. ' Sir, stop '.

The injector stayed still inside him, pumping more drugs into him. His brows furrowed and his facial muscles squeezed as he watched Fred reaching his limit.

His veins kept popping out and his muscles taut even more, him, Fred. Sweats flowed like shower water down his skin. The light added to the heat, and he suffered. He felt the wickedness of man in a father.

Progressively, smoke graduated from him and filled the room.

' Yes, boy that is it. Struggle, control it '. The father after spoke in excitement.

If he didn't know he was the Crown Prince of Ruby Kingdom, he would have thought he was being set on fire or that the machine was working beyond his limit. His father was testing the boy beyond his control and he felt angry because he was, human.