The Secrets We Keep.

xiii. at the hands of the sons death

It was the day after, her eerily positive smile had captured the keen eye of the others around her as she seemed to be almost happy that her brother died, when in reality it was the complete opposite. She dreaded with deep angst about returning home as she had a sneaking suspicion that it was her parents who had been up from it all along.

She slung her backpack back on the nearest chair to her area. She gave another emotionless face as her dads turned to face her. "Tell me the truth." She said, her voice as cold as stone, and the rocks shuffled, and the ice thickened in her voice. If the season of winter--at least in terms of how harsh they were in Canada--was put into one human, and they were the embodiment of the cold and chilling season, it would be Eliza in that moment.

    "What do you want to know?" Kurt asked.

    "Cameron's fucking dead." Eliza said. "Did you or the FBI have any clue that the school shooting was gonna happen? Because they targeted me." Eliza said. "I could have fucking died out there." Eliza yelled.

    "We tried to stop them, but they went through with their plan, so no matter what it would have happened." Kurt responded.

    "Great, thanks a fucking lot dad. I have a brother who is dead. He was the one person in my life who actually made me have faith that the world was not full of dickheads like you." Eliza yelled, and then stormed off as the emotion of unsureness lit her face like a candle.

    Kurt was about to say another word, but before he could, Eliza had ran out. She could feel her body draining away from herself, and she had to keep a firm tight grip on her surroundings or else she would go insane. She held on, and took deep breaths as she sprinted off to the bitch named Dyllin's house. She knocked on the door, and Dyllin opened it almost insanity.

    "Where are your parents?" Eliza asked.

    "Um my twenty-five year old brother is at work, either that or he's out with his friends for another late night," Dyllin said.

    "I need to stay here. I can't be with my fucking parents. They're morons." Eliza said.

    "What... What do you mean?" Dyllin asked.

    Eliza slowly walked over, awkwardly, to the door leading to the outside world that was full of corruption and unlawful things, and closed it nervously. Which was basically rendered as useless, as the house shared the same unlawful nature as the real world. The house had a similar sinister darkness peering through every inch of it, and it boosted dark secrets about the horrible family that lived in there, if you could even consider them a family.

    Eliza walked slowly back to Dyllin, and grabbed Dyllin's hand before gently touching around, feeling the cold air that poisoned it long before she had reached his life-form. She smiled, admiring the fact that the two had the same freezing hands. "Come on, you're coming with me." She said. And she lead him into the living room, and the two sat down.

Eliza sighed. "So, you know how my parents are a secret FBI agents, right?" Eliza asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah, isn't that the whole reason we're fake-dating?" Dyllin asked. "How could I forget it?"

"Anyway, the whole reason that Cameron died and I almost died was so that this could happen. The family could get closer to you, because you're the prime suspect in a rape investigation involving Matt Monroe. Anyway, my parents are the reason that my brother, Cameron, is dead, and I need a place to stay tonight."

"Deal, you can crash on my place tonight. You want some beer or any alcohol at all?" Dyllin asked.

"Bitch, yes. Y0u don't need to even fucking ask me." Eliza said, smiling. It was as if she had been made softer by Dyllin, when really it was only a facade to get even closer. To find out more of his secrets. Admittedly, yes, the facade was easier to play as she was genuinely having fun, and sometimes she even had to remind herself, like in the moment she had agreed to the alcohol, that she wasn't there for fun.

Dyllin passed a whole bottle of alcohol and she began drinking along, adjacent to the falsehood of the lover. When finished the drink he chugged down, Dyllin sat down and Eliza nodded when she was finished hers.

"I need to know one thing before I can trust you though." She said, before turning to her phone's audio recorder on discreetly. "Did you, or did you not rape Matt Monroe?" Eliza asked.

"I did."

"Thanks." Eliza said, before glaring back at her phone. During this, Dyllin was also on his phone, texting Samuel about maybe sleeping the night with Alisa. The two continued to talk the night away, allowing their fears and doubts to detach themselves from their bodies, and they had a genuinely fun time together. They did some dancing, some more drinking, and Eliza really felt as if she was coming out of her shell. Of course, she'd never actually fall for the cactus, and by the time she was done, her stone face would give off the impression of not caring for the earth of which she stood on, but for now she may as well be out of her shell. Out of the hell she was trapped in. She just felt so disconnected from herself in those moments which almost worried her. It almost worried her that she was changing, and she knew that she couldn't change. She was scared of it, and knew that this was a bad sign.

    -

It was late that night, and Royal was up and awake. She kept thinking about how terrified she was at the fact that she almost was imprisoned. Well, she was actually in prison, but for briefer than she thought. She grinned as she was happy avoiding incarceration.

She felt a burst of nerves as she heard of a noise when the door cracked open. Her parents were usually home by now, and they were home. She heard the voice of the same investigations officer who had brought her in jail being one to speak.

"We're looking for your child, Royal Dustin."

Her heart sunk as she realized that the verdict had came, and she walked down the stairs nervously. She was fearful of what the outcome might be. "What's up?" She asked, trying to sound casual and calm, when in reality, she was breaking on the insides.

"The verdict has came, and you've been convicted as guilty."