Weeds

Weeds - Chapter Twenty Two

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I slid the cold, scrapped metal tube through my hand, pushing it away from me. I repeated the process with fury, when the circular tube slid through my hands that same part was soon being furiously past through Elliott’s hands as well.

All I could think of were the words Elliott had said minuets prior. We were spinning at a pace that blocked out the world, everyone and everything was just a blur. I could only see his face, which was hung in shame; I don’t think he had registered his voice until they were already out. I didn't say anything.

I had spent a large part of my summer reading books on people who had had tortured pasts and it wasn’t until that moment that I realized how complete bullshit those books had been.  I didn’t find the thought of washing away all the hurt romantic or even joyful, I found it horrible and unnerving.

I didn't feel pity, I didn't feel the need to comfort him, and I didn't think that it was beautiful how he was a good person albeit what he had gone through. I didn’t doubt him for one second, Elliott wouldn't joke about a subject that serious, he didn’t joke in general.

I didn't want to go get him high on cloud nine, and I didn’t want to get him so drunk he forgot. I was just mad.

It was above the kind of mad I had ever felt from watching any show or movie, above any emotion a character had ever described.

I had never been that mad, mad at everyone and everything. I was mad at Elliott for being such an amazing person that I felt like it made the situation worse. I knew that rape wasn’t okay or viable in any situation or to anyone but I didn't care, because all that mattered to me was that Elliott had been hurt and that made my blood boil. I hated myself for what I was feeling but for a brief second I wished that that had happened to any other person in the world instead of him.

I was mad at the universe or if a god existed I was even madder at them, how could they let such a horrible thing happen to someone?

I was mad at Kirk for not stopping it; I wanted to yell at him for not protecting Elliott.

I was mad at Elliott’s mom, who I had never met for not having stayed with her son, for not having prevented Maureen from being in Elliott’s life.

I was mad at child services for not having done something to stop it no matter how difficult it may have been for them to find out.

But no matter how mad I was about all these things I was furious at Maureen for being such a disturbed pedophile. I wanted to make her pay, I wanted to ruin her life, and I wanted to make her feel as shitty and used as Elliott had most likely felt.

I wanted to stop her from ever doing that again to anyone, I wondered why she was out and about when she should have been in prison.

When I finally dared to look up at Elliott he was staring straight back at me, a shiver ran through me as we kept spinning around. I would never forget the look Elliott was wearing, he looked calm but almost as if he were prepared to be disappointed or shunned. His eyes weren’t wide open, almost lazy, they looked bluer than usual and I could see the Goosebumps on his cheeks from across him.

I swallowed lightly before I looked away continuing the spinning. I did not want the ride to end, I didn't want to talk about it but I knew that I didn’t have a right to want or not want to talk about it. It wasn't up to me, I hadn't gone through that, and I didn’t get to be selfish.

When we slowed to a stop we were the last to get off. I was slow standing up trying to regain my balance; Elliott stood waiting for me his hands shoved into his pants. His eyeliner was still prominent and I wanted to wipe it off because I realized that although he looked hot with it, it wasn’t him and I wanted him.