In His Hands (BxB)

Gravity

***Jenny's POV***

I'm so absolutely heartbroken. Talon Williams, a very special soul to me, is suffering from the effects of my own child's abuse. I am sick to my stomach. Bile rises in my throat, as I look at the most unique young man I have ever met lying in my hospital.

He is so thin. Unhealthy. His ribs are on display as skin snugs against his bones. His shoulder blades are prominent and his arms look as though they may snap. His eyes are sunken in his sullen facial structure. His lips are pale and his flesh is pasty white.

I wish I could hold him forever.

Talon used to be Lutz' best friend. By default, Lyle and Lloyd spent many years as his friend as well. The fantastic four. That's what they called them.

I spent many hours of so many days thanking the moon goddess for Talon. His sweet spirit was cherished. He smiled so brightly, the sun was jealous. Talon's melodic giggles were a song you could relax to.

His manners are matched by none. Talon's presence would lift the mood of the most tortured souls. My husband and I would relish in his place in our child's life.

Destroyed.

Torn apart.

Belittled.

Begrudged.

All these words, and so many more, now describe our sweet Talon. Our Luna.

Goddess forgive us.

I had no idea. I truly believed Talon's fabrications. His excuses for his injuries were so realistic. I should have seen it. I should have tried harder.

After Talon woke and agreed to a more invasive therapy, I silently made my way out of the room. I'm guilty. I feel it.

If that was my child, I can't even begin to imagine. His parents are so exhausted watching Talon fight his demons. Useless demons. Demons implanted at the hands of former friends, pack mates and peers.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks as fast as they fall. Where did I go wrong? How did we raise a monster? Why?

I walk up my porch steps and slowly open my front door. My head hangs low with the weight of the burden I have somehow helped to create. I close the door gently and make my way to the kitchen for a glass of juice.

"Hey sweetheart. How was work?" My husband, Eric, asks.

"Awful." I whisper as he rounds the island and I collapse into his strong arms.

Eric walks me to the dining room table and holds me in his lap.

"What happened?" Eric pushes for answers.

"Talon." I cry out as my tears drip onto his white dress shirt.

"Is he alright?" Eric speaks with so much emotion, I sob.

"No. Is he alive yes. Barely." I screech out.

"Explain, Jen. Please." Eric rubs my shoulders as he wipes my stray tears.

"He is a fucking mess. He's broken and it's our son's fault." I feel anger temporarily replacing my guilt.

"He starves himself. He hates himself. He thinks what other's say is true. He thinks all of us hate him. Why? How? How can such a beautiful young man believe he is fat? How can he push himself to exercise. He is literally skin and bones. He had been running for hours everyday. For weeks. His heart is under too much stress from the lack of nutrition. Then pile the excessive physical exertion. He said he wishes he was never born. Eric." I hysterically wail into the air.