Greykin Mountain

| 24 | Just Old Memories

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Jackson sat on the edge of the couch while his mother cleaned the cut on his left cheek. The impression Eric's hand had left throbbed painfully and was almost as red as the bloody wipe his mother threw into the trashcan.

          "I told you, Jack," she said, shaking her head as she picked up another wipe and dabbed his wound. "Don't agitate him. You know how stressful his work is; the last thing he needs is to come home to find that you've gotten yourself into trouble again."

          "I didn't," he mumbled with a pout.

          His mother frowned irritably at him. "You and that little friend of yours were caught stealing from the school canteen," she exclaimed. "How many times do I need to tell you? We don't have to take things anymore, Jackson. We have all we need here—with Eric."

          "I don't like him."

          "He's been very good to us," she insisted, her frown not fading. She finished cleaning his wound and started rubbing a healing ointment over the mark Eric's hand had left. "When are you going to learn to behave?"

          He sat there, scowling down at the floor.

          "Next time he teaches you a lesson, I won't sit here and baby you. You're eleven, Jack. You're not a little kid anymore. You need to grow up—you need to learn to behave like a man."

          Jackson didn't understand. "But I don't know how, mom—"

          "Mother," she insisted. "Eric was generous enough to welcome us into this life, so you should do well to speak as his people do, too."

          His frown thickened. "But why?"

          She sighed heavily as she placed her hand on his knee. "Jackson, listen," she said softly, leaning a little closer. "I know that Eric might seem mean—"

          "He is."

          "Jackson...."

          He pouted, waiting.

          "Eric...I love him, okay? And with him, you and I are safe. He can protect us."

          "Protect us from what?"

          "From...all the bad people. You know what it's like out there. We're safe here."

          He did know what the world was like outside Dawnward's walls. The violence, the cruelty—he and his mother had lived through it for as long as he could remember. And he cared about her more than himself. He wasn't sure he could be a good little snob like Eric wanted—it didn't feel right, but he would do his best not to upset his mother again.

          With a stiff nod, he took his eyes off the fluffy carpet and stared at her face. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

          She smiled and moved her hand to the side of his face. "Everything will be okay. But it's not me you should be saying sorry to, is it?"

          Her words caused anger to churn in his stomach. The thought of having to stand before that man and apologize...enraged him, but it was what his mother wanted, and he didn't want to let her down.

          "Okay," he mumbled.

          His mother's bright smile made him feel content, and as she hugged him, he buried his face in her cardigan. She was the only family he had left, and he'd do whatever he had to to make sure he didn't lose her, too.