Wagering
Punished

"Papa still angry with Baskara?" ask Baskara quietly to Jeffrey who is now sitting on the right side of the bed. The man had just been silent, focusing his gaze on the tablet in hand.

"No." Jeffrey replied briefly. His long index finger scrolled the tablet screen, his eyes moving following the row of sentences listed there. The look on his face was serious, even though Baskara was not sure whether his father was indeed working or just pretentious to busy himself so that he did not wonder.

"But his face is scary?" baskara great-grandson. Fearful he glanced at the mother, who unfortunately did not provide much help.

Since they returned from the rooftop this morning until now at lunchtime, the woman was more silent. There was no attempt to persuade her husband to speak again. Never mind persuading, seem trying to talk even not.

The gloomy atmosphere created was almost the same when Baskara found his father and mother engaged in a cold war the other day. The difference is, now it is precisely he who is the main reason why this gloom occurs.

Indeed, Baskara would also think that the escape he just to smoke can have such a devastating effect? Sure didn't. Even when he knew he was stuck on the rooftop, forced to spend even a cold night befriending him, he never thought that his father's reaction would be as scary as it was.

Although born into a family of high social status, Jeffrey almost never uses his power to get angry at people whose social status is below him. So, when he saw Jeffrey scolding the security guard at the hospital rooftop this morning, to make the skinny man tremble in fear, Baskara knew the level of anger in Jeffrey was very high. He who was still able to cry suddenly kicep, can no longer provide resistance.

"Papa's face is normal," said Jeffrey again, still reluctant to take his eyes off the tablet.

Baskara snorted bitterly and looked back at the father. "That's spooky," he murmured. The longer, the closer he looked at his father's handsome face. "Serright papa." Deuteronomy. Only to be rewarded with a rough breath from the father.

Then, he saw his father move slowly putting the tablet on the nightstand. A breath so deep was taken before the man looked at him, so deep and clingy. "Pope isn't angry with you" he said.

"Just who does it matter?" ask Baskara. The statement of not being angry with him was seen as a sign that the anger was aimed at someone else. Didn't they?

"Just like yourself Papa." Said Jeffrey.

Baskara who had originally prepared a lot of arguments to argue the father, suddenly clenched his lips back tightly.

"Papa is angry with himself because Papa is not acting on you" Jeffrey said again. Through his intense eyes, Baskara convinced himself that what Jeffrey was saying was honest.

Indeed, the man had abandoned himself for many years, leading him to frequently question whether he was still loved or not. But Baskara could still feel Jeffrey's desire to protect himself. Some kind of fatherly instinct, maybe?

The gloomy atmosphere slowly stepped aside, but that was not good news. Because after that, it creates an awkward atmosphere that is so foreign. Baskara cleared her throat hard to relieve her throat that felt hoarse. Eye contact with the father he broke up, choosing to pretend to be serious about watching news broadcasts that aired through television.

"Don't think of it again,"

Baskara pretends to be deaf. Instead, he tried to hum, nodding his head to follow the rhythm of music that only rotated in his head. Again he glanced at the mother sitting on the sofa, and what he found was a gaze that was too difficult for him to guess for himself what it meant.

"Bas," called Jeffrey in a firm voice.

Inevitably, Baskara turned his head, ending the play of feigning deafness that he had just run for a while. "What?" saith.

"Don't run away again, let alone harm yourself." Jeffrey repeated the previous sentence.

Because he realized he was guilty, Baskara could only be a beard. Apologize already, promise not to repeat again too already. So he should be safe, right?

But ... certainly not.

With Jeffrey, the problem may be over. But with Sera, Baskara still had to undergo long negotiations before fully obtaining a pardon from the mother.

"I'm sorry, "" he whined, before the mother opened her voice. "Not to repeat, promise." The bridge while grinning, do not forget to lift two fingers to form the letter V.

"Three days." Sera suddenly. Suddenly, Baskara frowned in confusion. What's three days?

"Should you be treated here for three days. Plus, Mama's gonna have two guys take care of you at the front door, so you don't have a chance to run away again."

"No way!" baskara Protest. He was tired of the hospital. Dan, what did he say? Will he be guarded by two people? Oh, come on, he's not even the president's son to be guarded in such a way!

But the decision that Sera has made can never be contested. If she says A, it has to be A. No one on this earth will be able to resist his decision.

Ignoring Baskara who was now breaking her own hair in frustration, Sera passed from there. The woman seemed busy talking to someone over the phone, then Baskara could not hear much when the mother's body disappeared behind the closed hospital door.

"Pa.." he whined to Jeffrey. "No more days...."

Jeffrey shook his head slowly. "That's a consequence of worrying Mama half to death." Said the man indifferently. The tablet on the nightstand he reached again, then he poked like the most sacred object in the universe.

"Father, maaaaaahhhh." Baskara whines like a baby, but Jeffrey doesn't care at all.

...****************...

Three days. Baskara continued to repeat it in his head even until now the sun had completely disappeared from view.

Right now, he was sitting alone on the sofa, lamenting his fate as a prisoner of war.

As already said, Sera actually placed two guards in black uniforms in front of her bedroom door. Let alone run away, loosened his head just a little, Baskara was rewarded with the fierce gaze of two male guards with muscles that big gaban.

His father and mother are not there right now, out of nowhere because he was not told. Which Baskara knew was that only the two men left each, for different matters.

Tired of just sitting moving from one place to another for the last two hours, Baskara walked straight to the patient's bed. His body he carried up, he threw it slowly after grabbing the phone from the top of the nightstand.

For a while, all Baskara did was scroll through the screen of her phone with no apparent purpose. Sometimes it's a fad to open up a Twitter page to see what's trending. Sometimes he goes to Instagram to peek at the posts of some of the sexy girls he follows. And sometimes he just kept glued to his phone wallpaper filled with images of white poodle dogs belonging to his distant cousins.

Until finally, the activity also still makes Baskara feel bored. The news he found on Twitter was not too interesting, even with photos of sexy girls on Instagram that no longer make his eyes sparkle.

Half-time, Friday. Three of his friends may be planning to hang out in Mega, while one of his love girls will definitely not be happy to come to visit without a Fabian invitation.

"Dogs, please. I doang this who can not go anywhere, can not say anything too." His grunt. He got up again from the bed, sat down with his hands after ruffling his hair to formless.

It occurred to him in his head to design a more proper fuzzy scenario, but then he remembered that the punishment he would receive as a consequence would probably be far worse than being locked up in the nursery for three days under strict guard.

Finally, all Baskara could do was exhale violently many times.

Seriate