Street Girl

37 | lucy

He is spread out on a bed, his hair nearly black against the wintry sheet, his eyes bluer than any ocean. I don't know what to expect from him; I'm terrified I'll see the same Elliot I saw last night. But as soon as our stares meet, I know it's him. He smiles a little.

"Lucy. Hey... you're here."

I shut the door behind me. "Of course I am."

We're silent, so I pull up the chair next to him. His body starts to shake before buries his face in his knees.

"Oh God, Lucy. I asked you to marry me. Oh my God."

I'm embarrassed for him, but lying isn't going to help. He needs to know truth. "It got worse after that."

"Tell me what I did. Ollie and Charlotte don't know, and my parents are just sugar-coating everything."

I swallow, wishing I hadn't left that half-shredded paper on the chair out there. I sit on my hands to stop myself from fidgeting. "You... sort of ran away. You got halfway down the street before your dad tackled you. He restrained you, but you were freaking out, El. When we got you back in the house, I think you tried to hurt yourself."

Elliot doesn't look at me, just stares at the ceiling, dead-eyed, like he's not even there. "Go on. I need to know."

"You broke a bunch of stuff, and I guess I realized that you weren't just acting that way because you were drunk and upset with me. It was something that had happened before, something your parents had dealt with. Your mom drove us here while your dad held you down in the back. You kept trying to get away, even while the car was moving. By the time we got you here, the nurse had to put restraints on you, but then you passed out." I pause. More damn tears in my eyes. "You were more than just drunk, weren't you, El?"

He nods, but doesn't look at me. "I didn't want you to know the truth, Lucy. I thought I could hide it. I was fine, you know? I thought I was fine. How dumb is that?"

"I still don't get it, but your mom said it'd be best if you told me yourself."

"I'm fucked in the head, Luce." He points his finger to his temple and pulls it away in a swirling motion. "I've got a couple screws loose."

I don't know what to say. Elliot's skin is splotchy and red from crying. He looks like he's walked through hell, even though the only places he's been are here, the car, and his house.

"It's been a long time since I've had an episode like that." He hugs his knees. "The last time it happened, I tried to kill myself." He scoffs and shakes his head. "I couldn't even do that right."

"Wait, what?"

Elliot looks away, but the realization hits me hard. I picture the Elliot I know, all smiles and blushing and joking around.

He tried to kill himself?

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"I don't remember. I was drunk. It was that night I told you about before—the night I freaked out on my friends. I was on these pills for my depression. Sometimes they worked, but sometimes they just made things worse. They made me trip balls and see things I shouldn't have been seeing. Anyway, after what happened with Luke, I guess I went home, but the last thing I remember is looking in my bedroom mirror. My eyes were red, and I was looking down at my pills and thinking, 'I don't want to do this.' I still haven't figured out what this meant. I don't know if I didn't want to kill myself, or if I didn't want to live anymore."

I have no words. Like an open faucet, Elliot keeps spilling.

"When I was on the ice yesterday, Luke said something that really pissed me off, and I was already all agitated because of what I stupidly said to you and I just—I snapped, Lucy. I barely remember it."