In Search of Home

Chapter 81

The days that followed Viktor's venture into consciousness were... interesting to say the least.

He struggled to stay awake for more than a few hours after waking up for the first time, but as the days progressed, he was able to get into a regular sleeping schedule. It wouldn't be too bad if he wasn't confined to the bed under everyone's strict orders. 

"Viktor," his dad said imploringly after Viktor had tried to get up to stretch his legs and almost fell onto the floor, "You've been in a coma for a month; your body needs to get used to moving again." 

Viktor threw his head back onto the pillow in a huff. The collar scraped against his throat. "So bored," he complained. 

His dad patted his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. Viktor smiled at him. He had missed him and his shoulder squeezes. 

While his dad stayed with him for most of the days he was stuck in bed, Vok'Rul only visited hourly. Much to his dad's consternation. The alien often brought some little trinket for Viktor they had gotten at the festival, and by the time the first day had nearly come to a close, the bedside table was overflowing. After the fifth time Vok'Rul had come in that day, dropped a small snow globe on Viktor's lap, and left after asking about his wellbeing, his dad spoke up. 

"You were his pet for four months?" he asked, nose wrinkling in disgust as the alien's tail slipped from view. 

Viktor frowned at him, feeling defensive on Vok'Rul's behalf. "So?" It wasn't like Vok'Rul knew he was sentient back then. Plus, he never mistreated him, either. "You were in a zoo."

His dad scoffed to himself, reclining on the overly large chair. He was silent for a moment, lips pressed together in thought. Viktor shut his eyes, feeling a bit of a headache settling beneath his brow. "Why do you want to stay in this place? We can go to one of the shelters after you recover. You can get away from him."

Viktor sighed heavily. This was the third time his dad suggested getting away from Vok'Rul today. It was like he had been the one who got tortured by aliens.

Well, he tried not to think about that. Even a second on the topic made him feel like he would throw up.

"I don't want to, Dad," he said for what felt like the hundredth time. Speaking made it difficult to breathe, and he kept having to pause to take in more air into his lungs. It was annoying. "Vok'Rul is my friend."

His dad looked pained. Slowly, he got up from the chair, taking Viktor's hand in his much larger one. He squeezed it slightly as he said, slowly, as if he were speaking to a wild animal, "You've probably got that Stockholm Syndrome, Viktor. It's completely normal for someone who's been through what you have-" 

Viktor interrupted him with an angry hiss of discomfort, "What I've been through? You don't know anything of what I've been through!" 

"Because you won't tell me!" his dad threw up his arms in dismay, getting a constipated look on his face as he abandoned his gentle approach. "No one will tell me anything! I wake up in the zoo one morning, and by night, I'm told my son's in a coma, the aliens that abducted us know we're sentient, and that we're all free to go!"

Viktor's bottom lip trembled before his eyes hardened dangerously. His body stiffened like he was about to run. He struggled to force words out of his throat, but when he did, they were quiet and cold, "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Why not?" his gaze was beseeching, pleading. "I should know what happened to you! It's all that alien's fault, I know it." 

"Stop," he said, coughing, but Oskar kept going.