Eve
Elliot sat idle in the bath as I washed him. I'd added extra soap—enough to fill the room with bubbles so thick they could almost float—but he didn't react. Not even when one landed gently on his nose and popped.
He just stared into space.
His shoulders were hunched, eyes distant, lips parted ever so slightly like he was listening to something I couldn't hear. Or trying not to.
I knew what this was.
I knew what that monster said had done to him.
The Flux's voice didn't need to touch skin to leave a scar.
I gently splashed some water toward his chest. Just a little ripple to stir him.
Nothing.
So I scooped a handful of bubbles and slapped them softly onto his shoulder. Then another—onto his chin this time. Slowly shaping a frothy white beard that curved around his small, solemn face.
He blinked, startled, and looked at me like I'd just done something… wrong.
