Baron tossed and thrashed against his sheets in frantic desperate movements. His brows furled and unfurled as he murmured incoherent words. A lone tear escaped from his left eye and was soon wiped off in another bout of thrashing.
He was back at that place where the last of his soul was ripped off of him. In the dream, he was running away from his father who had a long cane in his hand. Tattooed on his body were fresh pink marks from the cane. He was afraid again, wanting his mother. He slept in the shed of a coffee shop seven miles away from his father's house and woke to five pairs of eyes pairing down at him.
"Hey boy, what are you up to? Where's your father? Who did this to you?" The only woman amongst them asked in awe on sighting the marks on his body.
Two hours passed and he did not say a word to the uniformed officers. He was too scared, too hurt to speak.
After a few more hours of deliberating and checking with the police on any filed missing person cases and when the search for his identity proved abortive, he was announced on the radio as a missing child. His hurt was further deepened when Three days passed with no one coming for him. The kind officers then took him to a foster home even though they were amazed that no one neither came for him nor filed a missing person case with his picture.
Stay here while I knock. The officer told him. Two rings at the doorbell brought a man who had pink braids reaching his buttocks. He had very light makeup and also very simple jewelry.
"Poor baby! Look at you!!"
The man cooed, bending to his knees to match his height.
Little Baron started, wide-eyed at the man, uncertain, yet, there seemed to be kindness in his eyes.
"Our child is here!" A loud shriek came from behind the door. A small man came out, holding a placard that said, "Welcome, baby."
"Oh poor baby, a few good meals and you wouldn't be this scrawny in a bit!"
Both men cooed over him. He wanted to shut his ears and scream as loud as he could. Their attention was too sudden, too much to bear. He suddenly began to wish he could return to his father's house. Yet, he knew that nothing but pain awaited him there.
They spoke in lower tones with the officer while he sat at the foot of the stairs waiting for them. He only caught a few words of what they were saying.
"You know… he's not spoken a word since we met him. He might need a therapy session."
The words wafted into his ears. He knew he had not lost his voice. He just preferred to remain mute.
The pink-braided man had bathed him and given him cleaner clothes. He was shown his room and he fell into the soft bed with reckless abandon. He woke in the middle of the night to a strange sensation.
He fumbled for the switch and it was the pink braided man. The man quickly placed his hand over his mouth and started to undo his pants. He went numb as he turned him over. He just lay there, face down, the vague image of his crying mother hovering before his eyes.
The door flung open and the other man came into the room.
"This is amazing." He said lustfully.
He proceeded to undo his pants.
Baron started to fight against the weight pressing down on him, pushing with all his might until he gasped awake, his heart racing and his body drenched in tears and sweat. With trembling hands, he reached for the bottle of pills on his bedside table, swallowing two successively and chasing them down with water to calm his nerves.
Staggering towards the window, he pulled open the blinds, allowing the soft morning light to flood into the room. The dawn had just begun to break, casting a gentle glow over the familiar surroundings of Los Angeles, the place that always seemed to evoke memories of his mother.
As if on cue, his phone rang, interrupting the stillness of the morning. It was Cruz, his assistant, reminding him of his scheduled appointments for the day.
"I'm going to be free all through today," Baron interrupted, his voice firm and resolute. "Cancel every appointment you have lined up. I'm seeing no one and attending no meetings."
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Cruz spoke again, his tone hesitant. "Including your therapy session?"
Baron hesitated, his mind grappling with conflicting thoughts. He had made a promise to his new therapist never to miss a session, recognizing the importance of prioritizing his mental health.
"Alright, Cruz," Baron finally relented, his voice softer now. "What time is it scheduled for?"
"An hour from now, sir," Cruz replied promptly.
Baron groaned inwardly. He hadn't even had time to bathe yet.
"I'll be ready by then," he said with a sigh, ending the call and steeling himself for the task ahead.
In the next thirty minutes, Baron hurriedly showered, skipping the usual luxuries he afforded himself.
Soon, he was donning a fitted pair of black pants with a sky-blue shirt.
The ride to the therapist's office was a long one-hour journey. Savlong was a two-hour journey from Los Angeles but with Cruz on his side, he knew the time would be halved without necessarily getting them into trouble. They soon reached the therapist's office and the consultation began.
Baron stepped into Mrs. Sarah Reeves' office with an overwhelming sense of trepidation clinging to him like a heavy cloak.
He could immediately tell that she was a naturalist. The room was bathed in a soft, diffused light, casting gentle shadows across the tastefully decorated space. A plush armchair sat invitingly in the center of the room, facing a mahogany desk adorned with neatly arranged folders and a vase of fresh flowers.
Her ginger-colored hair was neatly styled in a sophisticated bob that framed her face elegantly. Something was striking about her. She had hazel eyes just exactly like his. She stared at him with a strange curiosity that fazed him. Genuine warmth seeped in from her to his soul.
"Have your seat." She said finally after an eternity of waiting.
"How are you, Mr er Baron?" She hesitated before calling his name.
Baron nodded and wore his ceremonial smile, pulling out a chair and easing himself into it.
"I'm good. You?"
She smiled at him and it warmed his heart in a strange way.
"How are you doing, Baron?" She was staring intently into his eyes. It had been long since he had someone so genuinely interested in him.
"What do you think you would have done differently?"
"Maybe I would have fought to be with my mother. Maybe I should have never been born. I've only caused nothing but pain to the people who have had the opportunity to be with me.
He thought he saw her wince but he only continued. He was highly emotional at this point and since the dam was threatening to burst, he might just as well release it.
"Everything that's happened to me has probably been my fault. My dad, he treats me like he hates me. I don't know if he's aware that the one he cherishes over me is not his son." He was sobbing loudly now, wailing like a baby. He had mucus dripping out of both nostrils, and his face streaked with tears.
A knock came at the door and the door was soon ajar without waiting for a response.
"Sir, I just needed you to see this."
Cruz was holding a phone which had a video playing on it.
"I wouldn't have you interrupting my session, Mr", she started to say, snatching the phone from him and staring intently at it, trying to see what could be so important and could not wait.
She suddenly swallows hard and drops the phone on the table.
Baron, whose cry was already interrupted, takes the phone and begins to watch the video.
"I, Mr. Sinclair, founder and chairman of DE'Clair group of companies hereby renounce Mr. Baron Sinclair as the director of the DE'Clair group of companies due to gross incompetence and scandalous involvements which he has caused the company in the past months. All benefits, financially and otherwise are hereby withdrawn until further notice. However, he will continue to perform the functions of the manager but under the strict supervision of his brother, Mr Max Sinclair."
Baron stands up, unseeing, staggers to the door, into the car, and drives off, leaving Cruz in a cloud of dust.