It had never occurred to Elijah that communication was his barrier. He had been called stupid by his sister on more than one occasion, but stupid was just a word to him. It meant nothing. What mattered was the way his mother looked at him, with her odd inverse eyes, and the way her face always looked both happy and sad to see him. Simple as he was, Elijah was anything but stupid—he was just different, in his own way. Silent, observant, and even in his pretty mother’s eyes, Wrong.
She had become different since the day the monsters had come and he had spoken, and now it seemed all she wanted was to hear his voice. Though unconfident with his ability to communicate what he so vividly saw and felt within himself. His world was vastly different than that of his mother. Wide-eyed, he tilted his head at that unreal angle and closed his mouth. When it opened again, his voice (something still high and light because of his age) rolled forth. “Will you speak for me today? I can mamma,” he said, speaking slowly, carefully. “If you want.” He was not confident in this skill, and it showed.
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