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Elliott 'Eli' Miller is your average 24 year-old with an estranged father and a resentful mother. When he goes back to his hometown to make amends, he inadvertently gets dragged into the activities of an illicit crimina...
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"But why me?"
I fell back onto the couch, my head reeling with this new information. Technically it wasn't new because all this started because of it, but it was still jarring for it to have actually happened. 'It' here being the fact that I was being tracked by a gang. Apparently it was referred to as "The Dark Side", which sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn't quite pin down why.
"You remember when you went back to your hometown and saw those men smoking from a cafe?"
The memory slowly came flooding back as I instantly recognized the name.
"But surely it can't be the same..."
He grimly nodded and I fell silent, wishing I hadn't been to that wretched town in the first place. Nothing good ever came out of there.
"In order to put into perspective just how dangerous they can be, all it took was one look from your side for them to instantly suspect you. That's why we're taking all of these precautions. It's also why I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."
"You said you had to meet with your boss to discuss something."
"It could've waited."
I was suddenly curious as to what Marcel was talking about since it probably wasn't work-related, seeing how little he regarded it to be.
"What was it?"
"What was what?"
"Marcel, stop the nonchalance. If you don't want me to know, just say so but if it concerns me, I think I have a right to know."
He flinched slightly at how harsh I sounded, surprising myself too. Guilt washed over me as he turned away to look at his phone and abruptly stood up.
"I'm sorry, I have something to attend to."
I watched him disappear up the stairs and heard the faint thud of his door closing. He seemed so elusive off late and I could never catch him for more than five minutes alone.
I wondered if the incident in the alleyway affected him as well. Was he now uncomfortable in my presence? Maybe Viv was wrong after all and that little speck of hope I had was simple delusional thinking.
Or maybe, just maybe, she was right. If she wasn't though, I'd be crushed, ironically. But I was willing to risk it.
I hadn't a clue where this newfound confidence came from, but it felt good to not be crippled by second-guesses for once. Perhaps it was the thought that on the off-chance that he really did have something for me, I'd find happiness; something that was a rare treasure to me.
This newfound confidence led me up the stairs and in front of Marcel's bedroom door, prepared to be disappointed, but proud to have taken the risk anyway.
I turned the doorknob and slipped into the room, which was impeccably maintained. On the bed lay a discarded shirt, it's owner now bare-chested pummeling a punching bag, seemingly out of rage.
