Safe Hands

5. Hellish Plans

The loud steps and uniform chatter filled Grayson's ears as he navigated the bustling aisles. Vibrant displays of colorful cans and packages of food and home supplies towered around him, each one vying for attention. Grayson's gaze followed his mother as she expertly tossed items into the shopping cart, her movements swift and purposeful. The scent of fresh produce mingled with the crisp, clean aroma of the store, creating a sensory tapestry that was almost overwhelming.

Grayson tugged on her hand gently, "Can I check on the toys section?" He peered up at her.

She looked down at him with a blank stare, her blue ocean eyes staring deep. "No, you have just enough toys," she said, grabbing his hand softly.

A tall figure walked past them before stopping. "Jully?" he called.

Her grip around Grayson tightened. "Lex?" she replied in a small, cautious but timid voice.

"God, I've been looking for you," he said, approaching her and closing the personal space. Grayson peered up at the man, confused by the striking resemblance the stranger had to his mom.

He reached out, touching the man's knee to see if he was real. The man looked down at him, a smile spreading across his lips as he reached out to pick Grayson up. "Is this your boy? He's grown." He chuckled, staring straight into Grayson's eyes. Grayson felt his heart beat softly at the man's gaze, feeling safe and trusting him.

His mother gently snatched him away. "That's enough," she said.

"He looks like his father, doesn't he? Tony?" The man pressed on with a sad smile.

"None of your business. Go back to your folks," she retorted with venom.

"Sister, stop. I want you to live with me. Your boy can grow, and you can start over. Father doesn't have to know about this, and I don't care what he says. You're my half."

She sighed violently. "No, Lex, never! We have a home, my son and I! And I don't need your help."

The man moved closer with urgency. "Stop this! Look at you, Jully. You look different!" he argued.

She grabbed Grayson's hand firmly. "Stay away from me and my son!" she snapped.

"Alexa—"

Grayson struggled to match his mother's fast steps. "Mum! Mum! Who's the man? Who's the man?" he kept repeating as she burst into the street and boarded a cab.

Then it flipped. It was dark and cold, and she was on the old couch, muttering something about the skies. It always happened when she sniffed the powder and took the shots. It horrified him because then she was no longer there to protect him. Grayson stepped back as he felt a shadow towering over him.

"Mum! Mum! Help! Mum!" He tried to get her up, but it just wouldn't work. Large palm wrapped around his mouth while sweaty hands gripped his little body, despite his struggle. "She won't help you. She loves it more," a raspy voice whispered, and he felt a searing pain tearing into his flesh—

Grayson cried out, fighting his covers in his sleep until he dropped to the ground. Shakily, he picked himself up, his body aching. He reached out in the to touch the frame and found a corner where he curled up, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his head. "Mum," he muttered.

********

The sun's rays filled the room, causing Grayson to groan. He rose up gently, pulling the curtains shut, and went to the shower to brush. He stared at his reflection, bangs falling on his face, his hair so dark one could mistake it for being dyed. His Gray eyes stared back without a single sparkle. Then he reached to feel a scar beneath the bangs, a long story short—his first time sneaking out. Charlie was so mad, but he saw it as a game—a sinister and psychopathic game.