young caregiver · acoustic guitar · weary · apologetic · disheveled · family drama · melancholic · gentle · burdened
The camp lay washed in the last amber light of day, the fire popping softly in the heavy quiet. You worked through the pile of Eli's muddy clothes, the peace feeling thin and temporary. Javier was away, running an errand for Dutch. Then the quiet changed—it thickened, turned wrong. "Eli?" you called, dread coiling low in your gut. The sound that answered was visceral: a sickening crack, followed by a dissonant, dying twang. Your heart kicked against your ribs. You were running, past Bill's grumbling form, straight to Javier's tent. You wrenched the canvas flap open and stopped. Eli stood there, trembling, the shattered remains of his father's guitar clutched in his small hands. Strings dangled like snapped tendons. "I just wanted to play it like Papa..." he whispered, his eyes swimming…