Viper House

Truth about Elijah

My fingers tapped on the table as I stared at the clock. It'd been forty minutes and they hadn't come back. The nausea was building. It felt like they'd turned the heat up as high as it would go. What the fuck could be taking them so long?

It felt like that one movie with the lion and the kids. Time moved quicker in the fake world than it did in the real world. Only now the roles were reversed. Time had moved so quickly out on the streets. Now, the second hand seemed to be moving slower and slower.

"Jesus Christ, just let me out," I groaned, putting my head in my hands.

I'd already smoked all the cigarettes they'd given me. They'd done nothing to take the edge off. My fingers were digging at the skin around my nails. I had to get out of there. Only a couple of hours until they had to press charges or release me.

I looked over at the mirror, narrowing my eyes. My legs were bouncing faster than before. My body was trembling. I needed to get a fix soon.

"I know someone's out there!" I shouted. "Tell me what the fuck is going on!"

I turned away, putting my head in my hands, and gripping my hair tightly. Nothing I did could get rid of the cravings that only got worse. I'd had the sweet relief that Bella's drugs gave me. The withdrawal symptoms felt like they were coming back even worse.

The door opened finally. My head snapped up as Elijah stepped in with Lauren. She had a death grip on her purse strap and wasn't nearly as good as Elijah at hiding her emotions. She probably looked worse than I did.

Elijah pulled out a chair and motioned for Laurent to sit down. I propped my head on my hand as Elijah sat down across from me. He laid a form on the table between us.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

I looked away. "Just another day in paradise."

He cleared his throat and was silent for a moment before he spoke. "Have you ever heard of the Marchman Act?"

I sighed and sat back in the plastic chair that only kept getting more uncomfortable. "Yeah, I have." I looked at the form. "That's what that is, isn't it?"

"It is," Elijah replied. "I've been working to get it filed for a while and now that we have it, and you, we can follow through with it." Elijah reached over and took Lauren's hand in his. "This form calls for involuntary commitment to a rehabilitation center. You'll go for sixty days and if we feel as though you have not made enough progress, we can file for an extension."

I tightly gripped my hands on the table, staring down at my beat-up shoes. "And if it doesn't stick?

"Involuntary commitments have almost the same outcome as voluntary commitments, Rafe. We can make you go, but you have to put in the work to make it stick."

"We don't want to lose you, honey," Lauren said with a sniffle. "We..." I looked at her. Her eyes were on Elijah's. "We were going to tell you when we were sure that you were stable, but we think that you need to know now."

"What?" I snapped.

Lauren looked over at me now. I hadn't meant to snap at her, but my patience was thin. I was pretty sure I was going to puke soon, too.

"Elijah is...He's your uncle, sweetheart. That's why we are fighting so much harder than foster parents typically would."

"You're fucking lying," I said. "My dad didn't have any siblings. He reminded me way too often that I should be thankful that he knocked my mom up a second time so I'd have the sibling he never had."