Love, Elliot

Part. 1.

My room was filled with 'hope you have a good one!' balloons, and happy birthday banners which were hung up on the walls and my door. Yes, today is my birthday. Although we didn't have much, we had each other. I have a dad and two younger sisters. My mom died due to lung cancer a year ago.

Without her, I feel like a shadow. Trying every day to escape the light and the sorrow that lived within me, called, 'Kathy'.

I've seen my dad struggling for the past few months. He's lost weight, his strength, his ability to do even the little things like tie his tie. Regardless of that, he still makes time for us. I remember when I was in the sixth grade, my mom used to bring me pancakes with a candle on top, and DVDs of my favorite Disney movies. My dad tried to make this a tradition since then, but he would almost and not always, bring burnt pancakes with butter on top. (We had to force him to stop doing that.)

Going downstairs, I see my dad on the couch in front of the TV. "Good morning!", he spoke enthusiastically. "Today is gonna be a special day, but before any of that happens, why don't you finish your first day of school! Does that sound good?"

I tried to smile but it's as if there is a string attached to my lip, forcing me to cause a frown. "C' mon, you only turn 18 once!".

On my walk to school, I saw the guy going into the bakery. Again. Every morning. It occurred to me he's only in his mid-twenties. He wore the same worn-out jumper every day, his bangs forever falling over his eyes, and his flower tattoo, glistening in the sun. Ignoring his dullness, I move on to school. Sigh. The worst.

Coming home, I saw a package sitting at our doorstep. It was quite big, thus, increasing my curiosity. Realizing no one was home, I brought a knife and started to open up the box. Revealing tons and tons of bubble wrap, there it was. A FAX MACHINE. What are we, in the 1900s? Why were we delivered a fax machine?

I tried my best to start this bad boy. It made a screeching noise, which scared the absolute crap out of me. Beeping, beeping, beeping. Instantly, without missing a beat, I received a fax. From an unknown number. It seemed to be from someone called Elliot Kingston. What?