The Skeletøn Bøy

TWELVE

"One should . . . be able to see things as hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise." -- F. Scott Fitgerald

++ C H A P T E R | T W E L V E ++

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you!" Anna cried the moment Elliott walked through the front door. He was covered in dirt, and his eyes were dark and blank. His mouth was curved into a slight smile, one that gave Anna chills.

For a moment, she was afraid of him. He didn't look like Elliott, no, he looked much more sinister.

"None of your business." Was Elliott's bland response. Even Anna could tell something wasn't right with him. He was dead on the inside, and that frightened Anna. She could remember the same exact look on her brother's face before he committed suicide, and Anna knew Elliott could very well be in the same place.

"Elliott, please. You can talk to me. I'm not like your mother-"

Elliott grabbed Anna by the neck and pushed her against the wall. "Don't you mention my mother. Don't you ever say that again. You don't have the right."

Anna could barely breathe, but not because of Elliott's hand on her neck. His grip wasn't tight nor was it threatening, but her fear was capsizing her lungs and she fought to be calm. The last thing Elliott needed was to see she was afraid.

"Okay, you're right, Elliott. I won't ever bring her back up. But, you can talk to me, you know. Or at least talk to someone. Like your brothers. They've been worried about you, too."

Elliott barely blinked at the mention of his brothers. "It's none of their business either. They're going to be safe, I'll make sure of that. Mother will never touch them, not ever."

Anna didn't know what to do in this situation. She tried to remember how her brother felt, and how she'd wished for years that she could have done something. That maybe if she had paid more attention she could have saved him. Or maybe if he talked to her.

She wasn't about to let her new son suffer from the same evil demons. She wasn't going to let him slip that far into the clutches of whatever was haunting him.

"Okay. You're right. Want to tell me anything? I'm all open. I won't even talk, I'll zip my lips and let you vent. Anything."

Elliott looked like he was about to ponder this, but then he shook his head and pulled away. "Are you working with Adrian? Is this about that stupid book he's so obsessed with, no matter how much I warn him not to touch a book? I'm not reading it, end of story. And I don't need to fucking vent."

Elliott felt angry and frustrated beyond belief. Everyone wanted to stick their noses in his business, and he was trying so hard to keep everything together and a secret. What would mother think if his secret unraveled?

She would kill him, no doubt.

"Listen, Anna. You can't help me. No one can. I'm doing my best to protect my brothers, but it isn't easy. It isn't easy at all! And with everyone breathing down my neck doesn't make it any easier! Fuck."

Anna took a step towards him. "Elliott, you don't have to protect them on your own, anymore. I'm here, too."

Elliott glared at Anna. "No! You're not there for them like I am. You weren't there when mother was killing Adrian! You weren't there when Mat was crying and contemplating killing himself at age nine. You weren't there for them, I was. And I always will be."

Anna was taken aback. The abuse stories she kept hearing was sickening and surprising. How did these boys survive? How did they pull together and escape? Well, maybe not so much Elliott. He was messed up beyond belief and refused to let a single soul in.