Most people carried a warmth from their families with them.
It was what kept them alive in the hardest moments, pushed them forward when they were about to give up.
Elijah had none of that.
His parents didn't even share his last name. In fact… he had no last name at all.
There was a time when he had believed last names were treasures, earned and cherished like the way his brother adored his favorite toy.
Jace always had one. Blackwood.
It sounded so precious that Elijah would beg him to write it in the sand, just to touch the letters.
"Idiot," Jace would snort before boarding a school bus that carried him away.
It looked nice to him.
So Elijah would stare at the pretty bus through the window until it vanished from his sight.
He wasn't allowed to go to school, or speak to anyone, or even leave the house without permission.
Letters printed on the locked door were only shapes to him. Even though he could recognize every one of them, they were still meaningless.
