Caged Phoenix

Aster groggily opened his eyes. It had grown pitch-black in the room since he had fallen asleep. Brushing his hair off his forehead, Aster allowed his eyes to adjust to the inkiness. Zane must’ve switched the light off sometime during the night.
Zane…
The abuser was nowhere to be found. Apparently, he had grown restless and was now taking an early morning stroll. Naturally, Aster wasn’t exactly comfortable with the fact that his captor was on the move whilst he lay helpless and unconsciousness in bed.
Aster knew where he stood. Though, he was technically alone and unfettered, he was not tempted to explore or look for a way off the floating prison. Not in his condition. Besides, where could he go when he was surrounded by saltwater?
Zane has to go ashore sometime. That’s when I’ll have my chance.
Abruptly, the darkened chandelier above suddenly crackled with fiery light. Zane had returned. Unflinchingly, Aster warily watched his former torturer come towards him with a silver-serving tray. He smiled; actually smiled.
“Good morning,” Zane greeted him. “I hope you’re hungry for some breakfast.”
Aster declined to answer. He hadn’t eaten a good full meal in days. In spite of the poor rice gruel, Zane had given him in captivity; starvation was starting to gnaw at his insides all the same. With a sort of aplomb, Zane set the tray in front of him and lifted the domed lid. Scrambled eggs and a fillet of fish revealed themselves to him. Instantly, Aster grew ravenous.
“Eat. You need your strength.”
With this command, Zane left the bedroom. Aster stared down at the meal in front of him with amazement.
Zane’s being…compassionate.
What is he planning?
Aster wasn’t going to be fooled or blindsided. He was not going to become the stereotypical victim that relied on the whims and kindnesses of his captor.
However, he did appreciate the food. And if the platter were poisoned, well, at least he would find peace and security eventually.
The taste of butter caressed his tongue as he took the first bite of the pinkish fish he identified as salmon. Within minutes, he had devoured nearly all of it. Ignoring the nauseousness rippling through his stomach, Aster forced himself to eat slower. After starving for the better part of a week, his digestive system was reeling from the rich food.
At last, he cleaned his plate. Settling back on the bed, Aster allowed the food room to digest as he examined his surroundings for the umpteenth time. The sole means of entry was the intimidating white painted door to the left and Zane most definitely lurked somewhere behind it. No way out. No way to remain unseen.
I wonder where Zane is now?
As if answering his question, the abductor himself walked through the door. The contours of his mouth were creeping upwards.
“Good, you’re finished eating. Now, how about getting dressed?”
Aster’s imminent response of dismay was cut off when Zane tossed some clothes onto the bed that consisted of black jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt. Definitely from the former student’s own personal wardrobe. Aster never cared for the color himself. However, this time, he had no choice in the matter.
“Is there anything else I can get you, Aster?” Zane sounded so achingly sincere.
Aster swallowed hard. He really had eaten too fast. “No. I’m fine, Zane.”
A dark look entered Zane’s eyes. “No. You’re not fine. But, I wish to remedy that Now, I’ll just turn this on and allow you some rest in private.”
Aster cringed as Zane swept past him only to breathe a sigh of relief as the teal-haired duelist clicked on a TV that had escaped his view. However, his ears were already tuning in when Aster heard his own name being spoken.
“Aster Phoenix disappeared on Tuesday night—seemingly without a trace. He is feared dead. It has now been four days since his abduction. Police still have no leads on his present location. Anyone with any information should contact our news station immediately. Our number is…”
Aster blanked the rest out, barely glancing at the prim and proper anchorwoman onscreen in her pastel pink suit and neat pageboy hair. He gazed over at Zane forlornly.
“They think I’m dead.”
“And, here you sit,” Zane countered.
Aster could tell that the news report had rankled his captor, even if only for a moment.
“Zane, when are you going to let me--”
“Soon,” he hissed rudely. “Trust me, even if it seems impossible.”
It does.
Thankfully, his hovering captor once again exited the room. The sound of the TV was now innocently breaking up the silence. Aster chanced to look at the screen to see himself grinning back at him—happy and healthy. Disgusted with the photograph and his current state of affairs both, Aster purposefully got up and turned the droning thing off.
With trembling fingers, Aster dressed himself in Zane’s clothes. Truth be told, he didn’t want to soak up his tormentor’s aura or anything else of his, but, as usual, he had no say in the matter.
Right before Aster proceeded to pull the shirt over his head, he glanced down at his still smarting chest and nearly cried out. Outstanding puffy red gashes stood sharp against the creaminess of his skin. First and second-degree burns littered his torso—creating an infernal quilt of pink and crimson patches. A snapshot of torture.
Stifling a sob, Aster put the shirt on and the horrible sight was masked. Temporarily, of course.
I’m definitely going to scar.
Aster tried not to be vain, but the memory would never disappear. In a way, Zane had branded him. Left his mark for years to come. Ruined him. Forever. It was just as much as a physical trauma as it was a mental trauma.
Why, Zane? Why?