Grabbing Hold (The Motorcycle Kid #1)

26. New Realities

No one saw Elliott till later that night when Charlotte found him in his room staring idly at the ceiling as his fingers twisted and untwisted a short piece of rope. He barely stirred as he felt the bed dip under  his mother's weight.

"Baby," she said softly, feeling his forehead for any signs of fever. "Emmett told me what happened earlier. Are you okay?"

Elliott's fingers tightened around the rope, his face wrinkling in frustration.

"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, rolling over.

"Maybe I would if you told me-"

"Stop. Just stop it, okay, Mom?" He sat up, facing his mother. "I know you're trying to help or whatever, but it's not working, so just...stop."

Charlotte hid the pain in her voice with a small cough.

"Elliott."

He met her gaze, his expression strained.

"I wish I could tell you, Mom," he whispered. "I wish it was easy to talk about, but-" his voice cracked.

"Aw, my baby," Charlotte cooed, pulling her eldest son into her embrace. She rubbed Elliott's back, soothing him as he clung to her. "You'll be alright. I promise."

She kissed his forehead as she rocked him back and forth. "Mommy's got you covered, you big baby. Mommy's got you covered."

Charlotte looked up as Emmett poked his head into the room.

"Dinner's ready," he said quietly. "It's meatloaf and potatoes."

Elliott released his mother, watching his younger brother nervously chew on his lip. He could tell Emmett had something more to say- he just didn't know if the time was right.

"We're coming," he said, hoping to put their minds at ease. He wasn't willing to make them face his new reality. In his eyes, things were just the way they'd been when the divorce was still fresh.

He was young, sure, but he'd already seen things that could only be described as the products of humanity at its absolute worst.

He had to shield them.

He couldn't put them through everything he'd faced.

He'd seen families torn apart, children orphaned in a single airstrike. He'd watched helplessly as rebels dropped bomb after bomb on building after building - including children's hospitals.

How did you do that? How could you attack and kill people who were already injured? How could you hurt someone who couldn't help himself?

What had brought humanity so low?

"Elliott?"

His mother's soft voice broke him from his daze. Charlotte was right. He was home now. He was with his family.

Safe.

Loved.

Safe.

"You ready for dinner?"

"Heck yeah," Elliott muttered, his mind relaxing at the thought of a hot meal. Even after ten weeks of Army basics and another twenty of medical training, nothing had prepared him for the ration lifestyle.

He'd missed sitting down at the dinner table with his family.

Maybe if he could get through it this time, things would start feeling like they were back to normal.

But then again, life could feel normal as much as it wanted to. It didn't matter. To Elliott, nothing would ever be the same.