The camera viewed a fixed angle in the corner of a small room, looking down at a little boy so pale he seemed to glow eerily in the dim light.
Then overhead fluorescent lights flickered on. End flinched when they came on even though his eyes were covered by a black blindfold. He wiggled a bit, straining against the straps that held his arms and legs down on the table. His long white hair fanned out around him, tresses wrapped around his arms and spilling off the edges of the table. He was entirely naked and there were surgical scars cut into his abdomen that were, slowly but visibly, healing.
The door to the room opened. The camera was pointed away from the door but it was fine as the man soon walked into frame. Right up to End. He patted End’s bare thigh. End squirmed away from his touch.
“Relax. It’s me,” the man said in a gentle voice and End stopped moving.
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In a small voice, End asked, “can you take this blindfold off? I want to see you.”
The man tilted his head to the side, his messy brown waves shifting with the motion, “you know I can’t. They’d know.”
End whimpered and the man caressed his cheek. Just as End went to lean into his hand he pulled it away and pressed something pinched between his thumb and forefinger to End’s closed lips, “here... this will help with the pain of the next surgery.”
End parted his lips and accepted the pill. Once he had swallowed it, he asked nervously, “next? Another one today? I haven’t healed yet.”
The man picked up a tress of End’s hair and lifted it, letting it slide over his fingers as he raised it to his lips and kissed the frayed end. “I know. I’m sorry I can’t save you yet, just hold on.”
End nodded and the man leaned down to kiss his forehead. The man straightened back up, turning back to the door, to the camera, his face visible for the first time. He was young and roughly handsome with a short and slightly uneven beard growing in. He locked his dark brown, almost black, eyes on the camera and winked.
The camera feed cut out.