Thirteen.
His father had been gone for thirteen minutes, leaving Edward to wait and shift nervously on his feet, alternating between staring at the door and at his prototype surveillance bot that Father had dropped onto the table before he told Edward to wait there, closing the door behind him with an inscrutable expression.
Edward feels increasingly restless as the seconds tick by.
Leave. Run.
He ignores the tendrils of fear curling up his body, ignores his instincts screaming. There is no use in running.
Fourteen minutes and the door opens again.
...
Twenty four.
That's the number of lashings he received from Father before his mother burst in and intervened.
He cries and howls like an infant, tucked into her embrace as she tries to comfort him and ease his pain with a salve.
"Shh, Edward. It's going to be okay. I'm here now." Her hand rubs slow, gentle circles across the angry red welts covering his back, and Add clutches tighter to the front of her dress, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "My poor baby, I'm- I'm so sorry you had to go through that."
The lump in his throat swells when he hears his mother's voice, her heart break, and he cries even more.
...
Nineteen times. The number of times his mother has lied to him.
"Darling, your father and I love you very much."
He does not doubt her own feelings towards him, but he does not think she speaks true to his father's feelings.
If his father loves him, Edward has never felt it in any of his actions or words.
"You have one purpose, boy! One purpose and you cannot even do that properly!"
His father has only one use for him. What that is is still beyond him; all he knows is that it has to do with Nasods. It's always about Nasods.
"Edward, are you listening to me?"
The words cause him to stiffen in fear, but only for a moment before he realises they come in his mother's gentle tone, not Father's demanding bark.
He nods and looks up at her again.
She gives him a small smile. "I've told you before, haven't I? How happy we both were when you were born?" Her wide eyes light up, expressive as ever as she seems to reminisce. "You were such a cute, delicate little thing."
Edward flushes and then says sulkily, "Please don't say stuff like that, it's embarrassing."
Mother laughs, the sound rare and sweet, and it almost makes up for the embarrassing baby talk. She ruffles his hair fondly. "Oh? But you were! You're still cute, and you'll always be my little baby."
Edward can practically feel steam coming out of his ears. "Mother!"
She laughs again, and Edward finds that he doesn't mind how many times she lies to him if he can see her smile and laugh.
...
"...have dedicated more than ten years of my life for this! Edward is essential to the plan!"
"How could you do this? He's your own son!"
He works up the nerve to peep around the edge of the ajar door, and tenses when he sees his mother wiping at her eyes.
His father stands before her, shaking his head before he puts his hands on her trembling shoulders.
"Oh Grace, you don't understand. It's exactly beacuase he is my son that he is the centerpiece of my plan!" He throws his arms out in a dramatic gesture.
"Who better to carry on my legacy, the legacy of the Grenore family, than my only son?" He turns away from Mother and begins pacing about. "Of course, there are still a few kinks I would have liked to iron out, but despite his blunders, Edward is still an intelligent boy. There is not much more time left for me to tutor him, but I have made the necessary arrangements for his education as well as his purpose."
Edward's hand presses over his left eye, and he suddenly feels sick.
"Purpose?" His mother echoes. "You are the one who does not understand, Asker! Whatever you are trying to do - do you not see how it will affect Edward?!"
"My dear, you are being ridiculous. This is for Edward's good as well! He will be strong and literally filled to the brim with knowledge! He'll be unstoppable! Those bastards that hunt is won't stand a chance!"
"He's not a weapon!"
It's the one time he had heard his mother raise her voice.
It seems his father as well, has been stunned into a momentary silence.
"You are saying that you don't care about his happiness, his own will?"
Asker turns, and Edward takes a step back at the expression in his eye clear even from the side, horrifyingly blank.
"What need does he have of his own will?"
...
Exactly eight people stand in front of the burning remains of his family mansion, talking and laughing.
Twelve people had been on that house, now dead.
Two of them had been his parents.
One his beloved mother.
Add fell to his knees and screamed to the heavens.
...
One slice of bread, two bananas and two bowls of water.
That was all he was given to sustain himself till night, when he was given a bowl half-filled with cold soup.
He was weighed at the market when his first owner was trading him off, and he learned much later that he had been twenty pounds underweight.
...
Ten days of slavery. He received his first flogging (one from someone other than Father, that is) when he accidentally broke an expensive vase.
...
Thirty nine weeks of slavery. Add had spent eighteen of those without a wink of sleep and softly crying for his mother or for death.
The former could not come without the latter, he realises on the twelfth night.
A broken laugh leaves him but is quickly choked by a sob.
He prays for only the second from then on.