Saving Elliot ✓

Chapter Two

MY MUM STOOD BY the kitchen door with wide eyes and a slack jaw. Yasmin Campbell, one of my mum's oldest and dearest friends stood next to her, wearing the same expression.

"Oh my God," Mum gasped, "What...what the hell do you think you're doing Elliot?"

I opened my mouth to respond but the dark-haired boy cut in, "I'm not doing anything, she's fucking crazy!"

My eyes narrowed as I glanced down at him. My fingers tightened around his neck once more, I was more than ready to choke the life out of this inconsiderate arsehole.

"She's...she's..." he sputtered, "She's choking me!"

Mum banged her hand on the kitchen counter, making me jump. "Stop it!"

I stared up at her, "But mum he's a creep! He's a burglar! We have to teach this son of a-"

"Jesus Christ! He's not a burglar!" Yasmin snapped, looking like she was close to having a heart attack, "El, get off him!"

I grappled with the boy for a few seconds before he managed to rip my hands off his neck and push away. He muttered a series of obscene curses as he pushed himself up. He rubbed his neck and stumbled over to sit on one of the stools that surrounded the kitchen island.

"Oh God," Yasmin gasped, rushing over to him.

"Elliot," Mum asked, "Are you okay love?"

I nodded, "I think so -"

"I wasn't talking to you." Mum snapped. She glanced at the dark-haired boy with a concerned expression and joined him and Yasmin at the kitchen island, "Are you okay?"

The boy nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine...Can I have some water?"

"Oh, of course," Mum said and dumped her shoulder bag on the kitchen counter. She took a glass cup from the one of the overheard cupboards and filled with water from the tap. The boy threw her grateful smile as she gave him the glass cup.

I huffed and stood back up. I brushed away any dirt on my jumper and skirt. I wanted to look a little dignified after I had almost strangled a stranger to death. Mum scowled heavily, her hazel eyes were burning holes into my head as she stared at me in a way that told me she was waiting for an explanation.

"But...I-I thought," I stammered, "I thought-"

"You thought what?" Mum pressed.

"I thought he was a burglar! Don't look at me like that, I mean, look at him!" I waved a hand in the direction of the boy, "He looks like a thug!"

"Elliot!" Mum hissed.

"What?" the boy looked up from his glass of water.

Mum shook her head, "Sorry, not you."

"He might not be a burglar but the guy's a prick!" I said, "Mum, he ate my cake! It's on the floor completely ruined and then...and then the bastard cut my hair!"

The boy glanced up at me, a grimace in the lines of his mouth. "That was my cake."

"No, it wasn't, it had my name on it," I said. I had written my name in bold letters on a post-it note before I left for school today. I wanted to clearly mark the cake as mine and that it was not to be eaten by anybody else. The note had been mainly aimed at my dad since he was prone to eating any food in sight.

"No it didn't," he said, "it had Elliot written on it."

"Yeah and that's my name."