"Momma!" Elvis called softly from the living room. His mother had been in the kitchen, preparing supper for the night while Elvis, who was only five years old, sat in front of the television. Peter Pan was on, his mother had bought the DVD for him and the boy watched it religiously.
"Momma!" The boy called a little louder. He could hear his mother's voice echo through the home.
"Im coming Elvis!" It was chirpy, loving. Augustus said his child's name as though the name itself was precious, and to him it was. It was his babies name, after all.
Elvis waited patiently. Every once in a while tearing himself away from his hero to look over at the door which leads to the kitchen. He heard a little bit of clattering, sounded like his momma had dropped something.
But that was normal.
The boy waited, calling for his mother several more times but received no answer.
"Momma?" Finally he pushed himself from the couch, his knobby knees wiggling under him. He slowly made his way into the kitchen, his bottom lip poking out as he thought his mother may have forgotten about him. Or worse, ignored him.
"Momma?" Elvis peeked his head into the kitchen, the emerald orbs of his eyes immediately widening.
"Momma!" The boy forced himself in the kitchen, tears immediately filled his eyes as fear and panic gripped his heart.
Augustus lay on the floor, his limbs sprawled randomly around him. About his head was a growing pool of blood.
Augustus had fallen trying to get to his son. His head had been cracked and he was bleeding. He was not moving, no sound, no sign of life...
"Momma!" The boy wailed as he scrambled over to his mother. He didn't know what to do, he stood over his mother, his tears dripping down into Augustus's cheeks as Elvis tried to figure out what to do.
Finally he simply sat down, reaching out and gripping his mothers hand. Augustus didn't move, his hand was slack and cold, but Elvis held it anyways. He held his mothers hand and he squalled, heavy sobbing as he begged for his momma to get up.
Hours passed, and even though Elvis's throat was raw and even bleeding now with all the sobbing he had done, he continued to do it. For hours and hours.
It was what Manuel came home too.
Even before opening the door, he felt something was wrong. He felt it in his heart. As he neared the home, he could hear his son's cries.
"Elvis!?" Manuel wretched open the door, almost tripping over himself as he rushed through the home. The wails were so loud, ringing in his ears. He found his way into the kitchen before it even registered what he was doing.
"Elvis!" He stopped at the door, blinking at the site. "Mi hijo...Mi amour." Shocked, his mind almost stopped working, but instict drove him forward. He scooped Elvis into his arms, even as the boy squealed at him. Elvis did not want to let go of his mothers hand.
"D-Daddy! M-Momma!" He shook his head, tears flinging around him as he did so.
"Shhhh Mi hijo..." He cooed softly to his son, rubbing his back as he fumbled with his phone, dialing 911 and informing them that he had en emergency at his home. He gave them the address, promptly hanging up afterwards. Sitting himself down, he kept Elvis to his right, to try and keep the boy from seeing Augustus any further. With his other hand he gently began stroking his lovers cheek, his insides caving in on him. He poor beautiful love. He gently stroked the boys hair, tears pricking his eyes as his hand came into contact with blood, a substance even redder than Augustus's hair.
The amublance arrived quickly, immediately loading Augustus onto a stretcher. Manuel could only watch, unable to go with his love to the hospital because of their son. He didn't have time to drop him off with Luca, he needed to be at the hospital, and so Elvis had to come with him. They both couldn't ride.
None the less, Manuel was still right behind the ambulance all the way, still speaking soft words of comfort to his son who had yet to stop crying.
Augustus's doctor said the boy had a severe cuncussion, and a couple bruises and scratches. He predicts that Augustus will make a full recovery, no long term damage. It is his belief that Augustus's blood sugar may have gotten too low, a problem he had delt with since he was a child, but it would be fine as long as he kept up his blood sugar by eating regularly and taking one pill a day.
Augustus would be fine.
But Elvis, he would not be fine. The child was simply traumatized.
He had continued to cry the entire night and much into the next day until his throat finally gave out. The hospital had sedated him before that, he slept, but as soon as he awoke he was back on it.
This lead to damage in his throat. Two surgeries later he was better and talking again, healed.
But still, there was a problem.
The boy could not see blood, of any amount, or else he himself would have a panic attack, faint, you could never know.
But either way, it was bad. He saw blood and he was lost.
Traumatized.
