The Skeletøn Bøy

TWENTY ØNE

"I no longer knew what was real and what wasn't. The lines between reality and delusion had become so blurred."

― A.B. Shepherd

++ C H A P T E R | T W E N T Y - Ø N E ++

"Elliott, I'm really sorry if I started something between you and Wes!" Natasha caught Elliott in the hallway before class, stopping him to apologize. She felt horrible, seeing the anger on his face, knowing it was her fault.

Elliott looked at Natasha with a sense of annoyance. Her red hair was pulled back in a stunning braid, and her wide eyes were friendly, as always. Elliott found himself feeling at ease in her presence, knowing he could never really be angry with her. She'd been nothing but nice to him. A true friend, almost.

"It's fine," He said, waving her off. "I hung out with him later anyway. No harm, no foul, right?"

Elliott watched as Natasha's face lit up. She was obviously glad at his forgiveness, and that made Elliott feel warm on the inside. He was the cause of her happiness in this exact moment. Elliott couldn't remember a time when he was the cause of anyones happiness. It made him beam with pride, and his heart constricted.

Natasha hugged him. "Oh, thank you! Elliott, I swear I didn't mean to do anything. Really. Now, should we head to class?"

Elliott's face drained of color when Brent came around the corner, surveying the scene with hooded eyes. Elliott knew he had to be angry, knowing his ex girlfriend was all over Elliott, but there was nothing he could do. It wasn't his choice, but Natasha's. Elliott admittingly felt horrible for being the cause of their break up, but it was out of his hands.

"Oh, Brent!" Natasha had also spotted her ex. "I have good news!" She nearly ran to him, pulling something out of her backpack. She was eager to show him whatever she had on her notebook, but Brent wasn't nearly as enthused. Elliott could see the anger on his face, but said nothing as he escaped to class, not daring to get in the middle of whatever that was.

It reminded him of his own parents. When they used to fight, which was never rare. They always fought, over nearly everything. Elliott could remember it, clear as day.

"Mary! For godsake! Leave Elliott alone!"

Mother was gripping Elliott, holding him in front of her, almost like a shield. "No! Never! You can't help him, not now. He's becoming perfect! My perfect little son, don't you see! All the bruises, they make him stronger."

Elliott trembled against his mother's hands, her nails digging into his upper arms. He was sporting a new bruise, right over his eye. Of course, mother caused it. She got a phone call from the mother of one of the kids on the soccer team. Elliott didn't know what it was about, but it made her furious. Furious enough where she punched him in the face.

"Ellie isn't supposed to be the perfect son! Don't you see that! You're delusional. I'm going to my mother's, and I'm taking the kids with me."

Mother dug her nails deeper into Elliott's arms. "You can't do that!" She screeched. "They're my sons! I gave birth to them, and you have no right to take them!"

Elliott squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the yelling.

"Like hell I don't! I'll call the police, and tell them all about you, Mary! I'll do it so fast your head will spin!"

Mother threw Elliott to the ground and ran towards Elliott's father. Elliott just watched from the ground, unable to do a single thing as he watched the two fight. Father was stronger, but mother was relentless.