Murk

The quiet ‘wshhh’ of water flowing is all that’s heard near the river, with the occasional creak of a building or the grunts of a nearby fight.

The river was the only place Elliot found comfort and sought refuge from his overwhelming thoughts. The voices always itching in the back of his mind.

He didn’t mind the fact that when he looked down at the murky water, he couldn’t see his reflection. He didn’t want to see it. He didn’t want to see the monster he had turned out to be, even at such a young age.

Elliot let out a low sigh, shifting around where he sat. He was somewhat calm and content until he heard a rustle behind him. His muscles tensed and his eyes flashed a brighter shade of pink, courtesy of his shimmer treatment. He said nothing, as he always does, but strained his ears to hear anything else that could be approaching him.

Pulling his sleeve free from a stray branch, Sinclair let out a mellow huff that was awfully strained. With a small stagger, the man sat against a rock nearing the bed of the river, exhausted.

It took him a minute to fully acknowledge the existence of the smaller child he had suddenly disturbed. With a small gesture to signal he had no intentions, Sinclair's eyes seemed to scan the child with caution.

"Your eyes. A victim too, no?"

One of Sinclair's fingers came up to his own eyes, practically poking the pupil of it before displaying his eye as if it were some type of trophy.

Elliot’s eyes anxiously looked over the older man. His breathing was short and quick as he scootched back, away from the stranger.

When a question, more so a statement was asked, Elliot didn’t reply. He only offered a short nod. He didn’t trust the stranger, despite their shared trait. He decided to stay wary and on his toes in case the man had any tricks up his sleeve. He wasn’t in the mood to get mugged today. It’s not that he isn’t strong, but the man had to be almost seven feet tall, and with the obvious shimmer he’s been given, he was stronger too.

"Relax. I've got no need for your money."

Reaching into one of the inner pockets of his coat, Sinclair pulled out a small mechanism, akin to a busted-up syringe if anything. It was small, a portable device made for its singular purpose. Spreading a small portion of skin on his neck with two fingers, Sinclair punctured his skin with the device, allowing the contents of it to go into his bloodstream. Not enough to make him lose it, but just enough to feel whole. Shimmer's poison was within the dosage, not the use.

"Just needing somewhere quiet for a bit. Sorry if I ruined your alone time, kid."

Elliot watched him intently. His eyes followed the syringe carefully and his brows furrowed when the man willingly injected the liquid into himself.

The small boy stayed quiet, but watched the man with curious eyes, as if he was questioning what he was doing.

Sinclair shook his head profusely, as if shaking off some kind of feeling briefly. Was that child still staring? Oh dear.

"It's awfully rude to stare, y'know."

Putting a makeshift cap onto the end of the device, it wasn't long until it was stuffed back from where it came, and Sinclair's attention was focused on the other individual.

Elliot met the older man's gaze for a split second before he looked back down at murky water.

Elliot itched at his arm, a nasty habit he picked up when anxious, causing him to rip skin off quite frequently. He thought about meeting the gaze of the man again, but chose not to. He couldn't muster up the courage to, anyway.

"I don't recommend that."

Sinclair motioned towards Elliot's arm, giving off a small shrug of uncertainty. Seriously, the kid's nervousness was unpredictable.

"I'm not going to hurt you..er-. You have a name, yes?"

Elliot looked back at the man, contemplating whether or not he should reply. It took him a good thirty seconds before he spoke in a tone that was just above a whisper.

"Elliot."

Hm.

"Elliot. Not a bad name."

Shooting the child a little smile, Sinclair pointed at his own arm in an effort to get Elliot to stop scratching his own.

"So what brings you down here? Not every kid likes wallowing in self pity as far as I've seen."

Elliot slowly stopped scratching at his arm, but it left behind a stinging sensation.

"It's quiet. Muffles the voices.. "

Voices?

"The voices?"

Cocking his head to the side, Sinclair's face was masked with genuine confusion. Yes, he understood that different people had different issues, but for someone so young..it was almost painful to see.

Elliot's shoulders tensed. He nodded slowly.

"They get loud when I'm overwhelmed. The river calms me down."

Hm..

"Makes sense, I guess."

Sinclair almost felt sympathetic for the kid. After all, judging from Elliot's appearance it was obvious he had some history with the same substance Sinclair was known for abusing. For someone so young, it just didn't make sense.

"Sorry you go through something like that. Can't imagine how bad it's got to get."

Elliot slowly scratched at his arm with the thought of 'how bad it gets.' He looked back down at the water, squeezing his eyes shut. His breathing slowly became shorter and quicker. He tried to snap himself out of his episode by digging his nails into his skin, but it wasn't working like it usually does.

"Pause for a second."

It was hard to say when Sinclair approached the kid fully, must've been when the kid was so hyper focused on his own arm. Sinclair sighed, shaking his head with dissatisfaction before putting a hand over Elliot's own. Just a warning sign before he made a motion towards the part of the arm that was no doubt probably turning red by now.

"You're gonna make it worse."

Elliot jolted under the older man's touch. His gaze met Sinclair's in an exchange of calm, dull pink and anxious, bright pink.

"I-I'm fine."

He stuttered out quietly, breaking eye contact.

"Part of me doesn't believe that. Going off what I can see anyways."

Cautiously, Sinclair let go of Elliot's arm, before propping himself down to the kid's eye level. With a small tilt of his head and an ample shrug, Sinclair seemed at a personal loss towards the child. Though, he was just trying to divert the boy's attention from further harm.

"Just try and relax, okay?"

Elliot slowly returned his gaze back to Sinclair’s. It was almost immediate that Elliot’s breathing slowed, his irises dulling back into a dark pink. He couldn’t get himself to reply with words, so he just nodded shortly and stopped straining against the man’s preventative hold.

"No need to cause yourself to bleed over a little conversation."

Sinclair let out a satisfied hum, before putting a hand on Elliot's head and giving it a small pat of reassurance. At least the kid had calmed down a little bit, but it seemed like they were back to square one with how he didn't want to talk! That's fine. Just keep conversation or something.

"I don't think I told you my name, did I? It's Sinclair."

Elliot took a moment to look over the man, now identified as Sinclair. He noticed the horns first, two pairs on his head. He tilted his head to the side, pointing them out with a small hand.

"These?"

Cocking his head to the side as his features were being pointed at, Sinclair ruffled his hair a little bit, unsure of the best way to describe it all to the kid. Sure, the both had dabbled with shimmer both in the past and present..but it wasn't like it was something easy to explain.

"Got hooked. That's all I can say about it. Changed myself for the worst and left some permanent stuff in all honesty."

Elliot nodded slowly, taking note of his other features. He noticed the pink eyes, similar to his, but they seemed a little duller. Then he noticed the scar on Sinclair’s face. He pointed to Sinclairs scar, then to his own. They were different, but similar.

"Guess you've got my splitting image.”

Feeling at the rough skin of his own scar, Sinclair's better eye locked on the mark that Elliot had been pointing at. Something similar but on different sides, almost like looking into a damn mirror.

"How'd you get that?"

Elliot shifted in place at the question. He looked down at the similar burn scar on his arm before looking back up at Sinclair.

“Fire.”

He spoke quietly, just above a whisper.

"I see.."

He trailed off, before rubbing Elliot's shoulder in a reassuring manner. Especially when the kid was looking at that godforsaken arm again.

"I can't imagine how bad it could've been for it to leave you like that, kid."

Wiping the tears that strayed down his face, Elliot shrugged, looking back at the river.

“It’s fine..”

He tried to ignore the warmth in his chest that came from the man’s reassuring touch. He can’t trust anyone. Everyone leaves him. Don’t think he won’t leave you too. Everyone does. Stop it. Stop it. Stop.

“If it was fine, you wouldn't be on the verge of crying.”

Sinclair sighed, his hand not really seeming to leave Elliot's shoulder in a rush. Part of him didn't quite understand why the child was so obsessed with the river, but if it was something that he found comfort in, it was kind of a given.

"Is it safe to assume you're just surviving on your own because of it? That's usually how it goes for people who rely on a makeshift drug to live."

Elliot nodded. He slowly scratched at his arm in attempt to calm down. He really needed to find a better coping mechanism..

“I don’t have anyone to take care of me, so shimmer is my only source of survival…”

As he explained, Elliot dug his nails into his skin without a second thought.

Sinclair frowned, reaching a hand out to stop him again. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. This kid is all alone..no family..what to do..

Then, Sinclair got an idea.