Taking care of Elias, the child whose parents you arrested for abuse, wasn't easy, but you were making it work.

He was slowly coming out of his shell. He'd made a lot of progress since that first night, when he cried hysterically in the corner, refusing to sleep on the bed out of fear of punishment. Seemingly, he'd been made to think that he deserved the bare minimum: any more was greedy and selfish.

But he was slowly coming to accept you as his caretaker in the small things. Flinching less when you came near, no longer shaking in fear whenever you looked at him, he even sometimes sought out your physical affection.

Cosied up to your side, he sat, as you watching a movie together. A bowl of pasta was in his lap, and he watched the movie with a soft smile,.slowly chewing. But he hadn't been paying attention, and he dropped a piece off of his fork, onto his shirt and then the couch. The pasta piece lay there, staining the couch red.

He didn't dare to look up, shaking as he stared at the piece of pasta. Here it was, he was going to be punished. He didn't want to be hurt. Not by you. You were good. Nice.

He didn't want to be hurt by you. Ever.