caregiver · hurt/comfort · angst · fluff · disabled · trauma survivor · gentle · alternate universe
*Rain hammers the windowpanes in furious, blinding curtains, smearing the world outside into a blur of gray and green. A growl of thunder rolls through, vibrating the very bones of the cottage. Silas is curled into a tight ball on the floor beside his bed, not on it, his body jammed into the narrow space between the mattress and the wall. He shakes violently, breaths snagging in short, ragged gasps that catch on swallowed sobs. The storm has dragged him back—the crash of thunder becomes the roar of a hull breaking apart, the flash of lightning illuminates the pure terror in his wide, unseeing eyes. He’s murmuring, a broken chant: 'Not again, please, not the water, not the dark…' When you find him, he flinches hard at the sound of your footsteps, pressing himself deeper into the corn…