I had been forced to introduce Charlie to step two after the mall. Even after I convinced him he was nothing like a monster, I had the feeling he still didn't take my answer and explanations as valid. So step two had been introduced.

"Human behavior," I told him. "Now that you know a little about everything regarding a normal home and some basic facts about humans courtesies, it's time you learn about the important things humans do and say that makes us the most complicated and complex specie on Earth."

Charlie was sat on my couch as usual, with me sitting across from him in my chaise lounge. This was unofficially the official place where we sat down and I fed him all the information he needed. He liked my living room a lot, it was close to the kitchen and I was usually there. He didn't like being alone yet.

"The first thing you need to know is that all of these rules are what we call a rule of thumb," I explained, looking at the concentrated Charlie who was listening closely. "Meaning that these rules do not always apply to everyone, but vary depending on the person. With me so far?"

"Rule of thumb," Charlie repeated, looking down and flexing his two thumbs as if they held the answers. "Why do they call it that?"

If I ransacked my brain, I probably knew the answer to that, but it was unimportant for him to know right now. "We can discuss that later. What we need to focus on right now is teaching you about some human behaviors. Starting off with things that humans say."

Charlie lifted his glowing magenta eyes to me again, listening. "What does the humans say?"

I had to bite my lip. I suddenly remembered one of the songs from my grandparents childhood, a silly tune called 'What Does The Fox Say'. The way he said it almost sounded similar to how the chorus went in the song. "Uh... let's start out with handshakes. As you know, when humans meet each other for the first time or just in general, they start off by saying 'hello', 'hi' or 'hey'. With that, they usually pair it with what we call a handshake, a way of accepting the other person."

"A bonding ritual?"

Okay, maybe that was a little bit of a dramatic way of putting it, but in a way it was a bonding ritual. "Yes. They do it by each sticking out their right hand out, like so..." I held out my hand which he then stared at. "And then the other person takes it and shakes it."

Charlie looked at it for another moment, then down at his own hand, then back at mine. "Do I have to... take it now?"

We needed to get over his intimacy issues at some point. He didn't like to touch or be touched, and I had a hunch it had something to do with him not wanting to hurt anyone. But he couldn't keep it up forever, at some point he would have to take a risk. And what could be more harmless than a handshake?

"Yes," I said to answer his question. "You have to take my hand and shake it. Use your right hand."

Swallowing loudly in my quiet living room, he slowly stretched his right hand out to me, so slowly it was as if an hour passed before our hands finally connected.

The moment his large hand curled around mine, I felt heat spread throughout my entire body. My heart started hammering and I could hear my blood rushing in my ears as I shook his hand gently, feeling every soft surface of his palm against my own.

The handshake lasted three seconds, then he abruptly let go again and drew his hand back at the same time he exhaled a held breath. I noticed he was shaking now, as if the act of merely shaking my hand had taken a giant effort from him. Didn't show that when he braided fingers with you the other day.

I cleared my throat before speaking. "Good job, Charlie! That's how we humans say hello. Sometimes if we know each other better, we go for what we call a hug, but we'll do that some other time." When we've worked through your intimacy-phobia. "So how did that feel?"

Charlie didn't look up at me, just looked down at his hand, flexing it. "It felt... strange."

"Strange how?"

"I... I don't know."

"Well," I started again, trying to shake off the tension. "You did good. We'll have to practice it a little, conduct an actual introduction a few times so I can see how you will respond, but for now, let's just keep it at learning the important stuff. We can be practical later."

Charlie seemed relived by that. He visibly relaxed by the promise of not having any more physical contact, but instead only absorbing knowledge. That was, after all, something he was familiar with and found comfort in.

For hours I walked him through standard human behavior, mostly things we said. How we liked to ask how other people were doing when seeing them again because it was natural and compassionate to ask about their health. How we complimented things they owned because it was polite. How we normally shared a little about our own day, exchanging it for some insight on the other person's. Smalltalk, basically.

But then after that, I moved on to something a little more complicated, something I perhaps should have waited a bit longer to explain to him, but after what happened in the parking lot at the mall, I felt he needed to know.

"Sometimes humans say things that they don't really mean," I said, sitting up a little straighter when I had been sitting for hours in the same position, feeling my back tying in knots. How did kids do this all day in school? "Sometimes we say stuff that we shouldn't because we just can't keep them inside any longer."

Charlie raised a brow, obviously confused by that statement. "How so?"

I thought for a moment to find a way to explain it. "It's kind of like... a yawn. You can try and suppress it, but sometimes it just slips out and you don't even think about it. Have you ever tried that?"

He thought for a moment, but then nodded hesitantly.

I nodded back. "So, in a way, we let out something we maybe shouldn't have, that wasn't appropriate in the situation. Do you get that?"

He frowned. "How do you know if it is appropriate or not?"

"Most of the time, you can just tell. The subtle signs humans give off. The mood of the room."

"A room can't have a mood, it's an inanimate object," Charlie instantly prompted with a frown. "Only living breathing things can—"

"It's an expression," I quickly said, smiling. "But in a way, rooms can have moods too, but it is created by humans. We'll get more into that some other time, I promise, as for right now, we're just focusing on behavior."

Charlie nodded silently and lowered his eyes once again. Sometimes, I couldn't believe this grown man in front of me could be so smart, yet so... undeveloped. His brain had been trained purely to absorb and calculate knowledge, not to learn the acts of human behavior. I knew little of what conditions he had been in inside the facility, only that each Creature was kept separated from the others and experimented on individually. What that involved, I had no idea.

After another while of talking and explaining, Charlie discretely begun rubbing the band of his prosthetic leg by his knee. I noticed he tried keeping it subtle, but I could tell something was bugging him.

"Is everything alright?"

He quickly looked up and let go of his prosthesis. "I'm fine."

My lips twitched. He didn't know it, but he just did it; Said something he didn't mean, aka lie. That was next up on the list. "Charlie, do you happen to know the concept of lying?"

His lips pressed into a flat line, but then he nodded. "I... think... so."

"When someone tells you something and it turns out to be wrong, false or incorrect?"

He slowly looked down, looked at his prosthesis. He looked like the cat that ate the canary.

"We can't lie to each other, Charlie," I told him, leaning forward a bit. "If something is bothering you or if you have something on your mind, you have to be candid with me. Is your leg troubling you?"

He was silent for a moment, but then his shoulders sagged. "It's itching. I'm not used to... moving so much with it, I think."

I rose a brow. "Oh. Would you, uh, like to take it off and lie down for a bit here on the couch? Watch some TV?"

He looked up. "I don't want to interrupt our session."

"Oh, but we're practically done for today," I smiled reassuringly. "I think we can save the rest for tomorrow, you did so great today. But if your leg is bothering you because you aren't used to walking with it, maybe we need to get you comfortable with it." I told. "You know, start making you walk a little more every day. I have a treadmill upstairs. How does that sound?"

Charlie nodded after short moment of thought. "Okay."

I nodded back. "Okay then. You sit back and I'll bring you some more of those skittles, yeah?"

"Thank you... Carly."

I couldn't help but feel proud. He was learning to say thank you, how to use cutlery, he recognized flavors and learned about human behavior. So far, everything was going well, looking aside from the small salt-shaker mishap and the two old crows who discouraged him. He was doing so well. "It's my pleasure, Charlie."

~~~

Getting Charlie working the treadmill the next day was the best thing I could've done. Now that he knew not to lie to me, I had learned that the reason he had been up at night (many nights, as it turned out), sneaking the candy cabinet, was because he couldn't sleep. And no wonder, of course. With all the candy he had been eating plus his size, he needed a lot of exercise to tire him out and run him down. His brain – as active as it was – wasn't enough to wear him out throughout the day. The treadmill, however, did its job well.

After three straight hours of switched running and walking, Charlie was lying on his bed, beat and unconscious. With the sheets rumpled up and on his stomach, his one foot dangling over the (in comparison to him) small bed, soft snores were coming from his half open mouth as he slept. I couldn't help but smile to myself as I closed the door and went downstairs, these late nights being the only moments I truly had to myself.

All week long I had been working with Charlie. He was my full-time job, kind of like a child, and I was his current mom. Well, foster-mom. I wondered if he actually ever knew his real parents? God, to grow up in a lab... I shook the thought out of my head as I ventured into the kitchen.

Hidden behind my many bags of flour, rice and sugar, I had stored a bottle of Jack Daniels. It was almost untouched, having been resting there for many months without being sipped. I usually never drank, but sometimes it was nice with just a little nip.

I poured myself one finger, adding a cube of ice or two to the glass, then hid the bottle safely behind the bags in the cabinet again. I then sat down at my dining room table and pulled out my laptop to prepare typing in and sending an updated report on how Charlie was doing to the C.E.N.T.U.R.I.E.S lab. His progress was stored, and adjustments were then made accordingly, regarding his treatment if anything should go sideways. So far, everything was going according to plan.

I wrote a few lines while sipping my whiskey, letting it swirl on my tongue before swallowing it. The burn was nice and made my head just a tad bit lighter than usual. Not drunk or even tipsy, just that wonderful little lift you got from a nip of alcohol.

Suddenly the light over my dining table started flickering. I frowned a little at it and waited a few seconds until it passed, then went back to writing again. I had hardly written a few more lines before it began flickering again, giving me a headache.

"Damn it," I mumbled under my breath. There was nothing more annoying than a flickering lightbulb. I irritably flicked it with my finger and quickly made it stop. "That's better."

But then suddenly all the lights in my living room started flickering as if the power was failing. They turned off and then on again, as if someone was playing with the switch.

"What the..."

The TV came alive with a flash and my radio started playing in the kitchen. I jumped up from my chair when my laptop also begun acting up, the screen glitching.

And that's when I realized; It wasn't the power. My laptop wasn't hooked up to the power cord. I had been using it with the power it had left. Something was disturbing all the electricity in the house, making it act like this... almost like someone possessed control over them, or at least someone who tried to—

"Charlie!"

Within seconds I was running up the stairs, now alerted to a distressed sound coming from his room. I heard noises, grunts and words in all different languages coming from behind his closed door.

"Charlie?" I carefully asked, barely knocking before going inside. Something was clearly wrong. "Charlie, what are you—"

I froze up in the doorway when I found almost every object in Charlie's room floating around in thin air, just casually defying gravity. A sleeping, restless Charlie was lying on his back, his head kicking from side to side, his body doing small jerks, while his mouth formed all the different words in different languages, flying from his lips.

"Charlie," I said, swallowing heavily as I ducked inside his room, having to literally duck under his floating night lamp. "Charlie, you're..." Levitating things? Controlling the electronics in the house with your mind? Speaking seventeen different languages? "...dreaming. Charlie, wake up, you're dreaming."

I shook him gently, and just like that, his eyes sprang open, his pupils wide and expanded and glowing more brightly than they ever had. It only took a second before they shifted to me, seeing me there next to him, and then they widened even more.

And just like that, something exploded.

I was thrown away by an invisible force and pushed out into the hallway, hitting the railing of the stairs with a hard crack. My head and spine took the hardest hit, pain shooting up my back, but I still managed to sense something else hitting the floor with a loud noise.

I quickly realized it was all the furniture inside Charlie's room. The minute he had woken up and regained consciousness, the concentration in his mind had snapped and made it all land on the floor again.

When black dots started blinding my vision, I couldn't help but think just one thing;

They were going to kill him.

• • •

... I think I'll try defying gravity.