What the…?
He stared at his son with shock. “J-James, what are you doing down…”
His words trailed off as he saw what his son was doing. Hanging from James’s tiny mouth was a large hunk of fillet steak, still raw and dripping.
Jesus…
Nick didn’t understand what he was looking at. What was James doing down here in the middle of the night, tearing into raw meat like a feral dog?
He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not well.
Nick raised a hand toward his son. “James, put the meat down. It will make your tummy bad.”
James lowered his head, animal eyes trained on his father. His thin lips trembled in a snarl.
And then, with what sounded like a growl, James lunged at Nick. His delicate hands were outstretched like cat claws. His sallow, naked chest was soaked with the blood of the dripping steak. As James collided with Nick, the hunk of meat fell from his mouth and hit the tiles with a splat!
Nick wrapped his arms around his son and spun him around. From behind, he wrestled to keep his thrashing child under control.
“James! James, what has gotten into you? It’s your father. You have a fever and you need to calm down.”
James continued to thrash and was now letting out a high-pitched scream like an old-fashioned kettle. The noise forced its way into Nick’s head and made his skull throb.
“Calm down!” he yelled at his son. “Just stop fighting me.”
But it was no good. James continued to screech and yell; clawing and punching, fighting to get free of Nick’s restraining arms. His bloodstained milk-teeth snapped wildly at the air.
Nick assumed his son was hallucinating from fever. If he could just get to the light switch and illuminate the room, perhaps James would be less confused. Maybe then he would calm down.
He squeezed his arms tight around his son’s waist and began to sidestep towards the light switch. James’s relentless thrashing made every step a battle of will and determination. He did not understand how his young son could suddenly become so strong and wild.
What has gotten into him? He’s like a feral cat. I can’t believe-
Nick’s bare foot came down on something soft and slippery. He quickly realised that it was the raw fillet steak, dropped from his son’s jaws. But it was too late to react in time. Nick’s leg went out from under him as his foot slipped on the wet meat. He fell sideways with the full weight of his son still in his grasping arms. His head hit the tiles with a crack and a galaxy of stars burst through his vision. There was also another sound. A sound that was both meaty and wet.
He was too dazed to sit up. His vision spun and a roiling wave of sickness crashed against the rocks of his stomach. So, he just lay there for a while, totally confused by what was happening.
Am I missing something? Because this all seems a little crazy to me.
After a few stretched-out seconds, Nick finally pushed himself up onto his elbows and glanced around.
James was lying nearby, his small body unmoving.
“Oh, Jesus!” He scurried across the tiles on his hands and knees. He placed a hand behind James’s head and tried to lift it up, but withdrew his fingers when they touched something hot and tacky. Even in the dim light provided by the open fridge, Nick could see the dark blood on his hands. It was warm and sticky like drying glue.
No, no, no!
Nick looked to his left and saw the matted clump of hair that covered the sharp corner of one of the kitchen’s wooden chairs. As he had fallen he had taken his son down with him, smashing his young skull against the unforgiving furniture.