The Skeletøn Bøy

TWENTY-NINE

"The greatest gift that you can give to others is the gift of unconditional love and acceptance." -- Brian Tracy

++ C H A P T E R | T W E N T Y - N I N E ++           

Brent took a deep breath as he stood in the gym, staring at his reflection. He was well in shape, but his ego was bruised. And the best way to unbruise his ego was working out in the gym. Totally cliche, but Brent worked out his stress that way. And it often worked.

All Brent could think about was how much he had screwed up in the past few weeks. He was slacking in soccer, though having Elliott be better than him didn't bother him anymore. Brent had also lost Natasha, which he wasn't feeling nearly as bad about anymore, but his heart hurt. He'd been in love with Natasha for years, so not being with her felt weird and heartbreaking.

She wasn't good for him. Brent told himself this daily, but he was still in love with her. As much as he didn't want to be.

Brent nearly dropped the weights he was holding when his phone rang. The sound nearly shocked him, and he fumbled to press the button.

"Hello?"

There was crying on the other line. "Brent?"

Brent stilled, his fale going pale. "Mom? Mom, what's wrong?"

Brent's legs felt like they were about to go out a he leaned towards the mirror, the blood rushing in his ears. "Brent, it's the kids. Someone b-broke into the house, and they took them. Both of them, Brent!"

Brent crumpled on the ground, his world tilting. He gasped for breath as he tried to process this information. His siblings were gone. Kidnapped. And Brent knew just who it was.

"No. No, they can't be gone! Did you call the police? Have you done anything?"

The sobs on the other line told Brent that his mother had in fact done everything she could. And now that she'd hit a wall, she was a mess.

"Everything I could. Brent, why would someone take them? Who in their right mind would talk my kids? Brent, I can't do this anymore! Your father isn't here, and I don't know what to do!"

Brent stood up on shaking legs. "I'm coming, mom. I'll be there."

* * *

Elliott took a deep breath. She stared at her bed, battling herself to read the letter or not. There it sat, right on her bed, but Elliott couldn't seem to pick it up. She knew just who it was from, and what had happened last time she read a letter from Mother.

She'd tried to kill herself.

Elliott grasped the letter with shaking hands. The front read Elliott, but even she knew Mother knew better.

Elliott took another deep breath and opened the letter. There, on the inside, was Mother's familiar handwriting. It even smelled like her.  

Dearest Elliott,

I know what you've done. I know just who knows your secret, and don't you think for a second that I've forgotten what was promised for this getting out. I'm sure you're wondering how I know, my dearest Skeleton Boy.

I have people on the inside, Elliott. It's up to you to find out just who is on the inside, and just who you can and cannot trust.

I will come for you, my Skeleton Boy. But not until I've made you work for it. Not until you've gone crazy with anxiety and insane with the wait. Not until you're exactly who you're meant to be.