Broken Hands

6. Little Boy, the maze and the monster

The night was a blur of tension, dark roads, and stolen freedom. Grayson had stopped at some quiet, unknown place, his mind replaying the final scene of dropping Amber at her house. He remembered her mother—a worn, wary woman wrapped in a night robe, clutching it against the cold. She hadn't been angry at Amber's recklessness, just quietly disappointed, her sadness worn openly, like a badge of years spent managing situations like this. Grayson had kept his helmet on, avoiding any connection beyond a nod before he helped Amber inside, her mother struggling with her weight. He'd left as soon as he could, avoiding the warmth of their home like it was a trap. The road was his sanctuary.

After sneaking his bike into an abandoned cabin nearby and wiping the footage of his late-night return, Grayson collapsed into bed, feeling a small victory in the silence of his room. Stray, his loyal companion, greeted him with eager jumps and gentle licks, the only sound in the dark, a reminder that not everyone expected things from him. But even with his dog by his side, the nightmares crept back in, relentless and real.

Morning came too soon. Julian and Russell yanked him out of bed, mistaking his exhaustion for laziness, both of them buzzing with their usual Saturday excitement. Grayson's eyes were half-lidded as he poked at his breakfast, barely aware of the plate in front of him. A stray cereal hit his forehead, and Julian snickered, sending Grayson's mind reeling back to reality.

"What's so grumpy, Gray?" Russell teased, leaning in and ruffling his hair, sing-songing, "Do you wanna eat some more cornflakes?" in a mocking imitation of Frozen's "Do You Want to Build a Snowman?"

Grayson groaned, weakly swatting his cousin's hand away, only for Russell to dodge, laughing. Julian's giggles were contagious, and Grayson tried not to smile but felt the edge of his exhaustion soften slightly.

Rosa entered the room with a gentle reprimand for Russell, but she was smiling, her motherly instincts instantly reading Grayson's exhaustion. She walked over, patting his cheek gently. "You look like you could use a long nap. I bet you didn't sleep last night."

He froze, his gaze shifting as he muttered, "Yeah, kinda... couldn't stay asleep." Rosa nodded knowingly, while Julian's eyes narrowed, trying to catch a lie in his face. Grayson's heart raced; no one could know about last night.

But then Alex walked in, his casual tone breaking the playful atmosphere, "Alright, grab your things, everyone. We're going to Aunt Lauren's." Julian whooped in excitement, darting off to pack his things, while Russell looked at Grayson with a mischievous grin before slipping out.

Grayson just stared at Alex, surprised and unsure. Catching his gaze, Alex paused his voice holding concern, "Gray, you okay?" he asked.

Grayson nodded, trying to mask his exhaustion.

"Good." Alex leaned back, his eyes unwavering. "And therapy? Why've we been missing it?" His arms crossed, the question more than just a prompt.

Grayson struggled, words tangled in his throat. Finally, he shrugged. "I just... didn't feel like it."

Alex took a breath, clearly trying to hold back a sigh. "Look, just talk to me next time, okay? Don't just go silent on your therapist. She's trying to help."

Grayson swallowed and nodded, forcing himself to sound convincing. "I'll try."

Alex smiled, "That's all I'm asking."

Grayson nodded, a mix of exhaustion and relief settling over him as he stood. He knew Alex was trying his best, maybe more than anyone had. But sometimes, he wished people would stop looking so closely at him as if they could see the weight he carried and the cracks in his armor that were all too visible when he was this tired.