One of the guards from the back entrance guard shack stands outside of it flipping a knife idly in his hand - over and over - never once in danger of slicing himself with it. He stands within the grounds of the facility, watching the children at their lunch with keen eyes. It is midday, the sacred lunch hour, and no one ever comes to the gate to deliver items during this time.
"Hey, you!" he calls out when Edward walks close by.
"Yes?" the boy asks. He is exactly twelve years old that day. He had enjoyed the morning secretly watching the baker make the cake he was to share with the other boys whose birthdays were that week, too. And he had not been discovered. Again.
"You the birthday boy? Eddie?"
"Edward," he corrects.
"I got a special treat for you," the guard says.
"Oh?" Edward asks, surprised. There was never anything special just for him - he usually had to share.
The guard stops flipping the knife and quickly folds it into itself. Edward's eyes go wide for a second. How did he do that so deftly?
The guard slips it into his pants pocket, puts his arm around Edward's shoulders to guide him into the guard shack and says, "Eddie, let me show you my knife."
