The Price ࿊f Peace

☮️: 050

Somewhere in Oakland

It was silent where the young couple sat on the floor of Syara's apartment directly by the threshold.

Elijah had stopped hyperventilating, but he was now gripping Syara by the waist, keeping his ear pressed to her chest to listen to her heartbeat. Syara was still massaging his neck, making sure that he felt as safe as possible.

Elijah never cared too much for people trying to kill him, so it couldn't have been another man, or gang that had set him off. Syara knew that there was only one person who could have him like this.

Yaléna.

And, just the very thought of Syara seeing him like that was eating at him. He felt like she deserved better than that. He was almost welcoming the disgust he was expecting to see on her face. But, it never came.

Syara pulled him further into her chest to lay once more, holding him tight to her. He was her baby just like she was his.

"I love you, Elijah." She whispered in his ear, as she rubbed her thumb across the side of his face. "I love you so much, my baby."

"It's okay," she promised him in a gentle voice. Syara took her time standing to her feet, bending down with her palms out to help him up off of the floor.

Elijah was around 200-something pounds of pure muscle which made it a little difficult for Syara to pull at him with no help. She stood there, patiently waiting for him to stand which he did, a few seconds later.

Syara immediately turned on her heel to lead him to her open bedroom, entering with him in tow. She was trying not to show it, but she didn't really know how to handle this.

She wanted to help him, she just didn't know how to comfort him correctly. She wanted to do it right, she wanted him to feel safe with her. And, most importantly, she needed to take away that broken look in his eyes.

He wouldn't even speak, he was just standing there, staring into space as if he was reliving it over and over again.

And he was. The cage. He remembered it all. It just kept coming back to him. Everything. Every memory. The table, the cabinet, the couch, the rug.

"Take your shoes off, papa." Syara told him, stepping into some Spandex shorts.

Elijah's eyes snapped up to stare at her distantly.

He didn't move yet, but it was clear that he was trying to compute what she was saying.

He seemed so far away from her, but he was right there, standing in the doorway where she'd left him.

"Your shoes, papi." She reminded him, stepping around the bed to walk toward him as he stepped out of his Jordan 4s.

He stood in front of her once more, but his eyes weren't focused on her. Instead, they were flying over the room as he relived another memory. He seemed paralyzed, and his breathing was picking up again.

Syara stood on the tips of her toes to press a kiss to his forehead. "Come back to me, Papi."

"Come back, baby." She lowered herself to press a kiss to his lips, then his cheek, then his other, then to his jaw on either side, then his nose.

She stood higher on the tips of her toes to wrap her arms around his neck to hug him.

The young couple stood there for a moment, a few minutes until Syara's legs began to burn from standing on the tips of her toes for so long. When she pulled back, Elijah was still catatonic, standing still, and staring at a wall behind her.