FREE STORY WITH EXCLUSIVE CONTENT. This is *not* a Paid Story.
Eighteen-year-old hockey prodigy Elliot Wexler has three goals for senior year. One: somehow graduate with a 3.5 GPA. Two: hide his bipolar disorder from his peers. And three: make it in...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I GASP FOR AIR. My heart thunders and the ceiling throbs before my eyes, dark and menacing. The stucco has grown spikes, and it slowly descends over me, ready to crush my whole body. I place my hand on my sweaty forehead and let out a shaky breath and let my vision stabilize because Jesus Christ, it was just a dream. Just a dream.
But it isn't a dream. Somewhere out there, Colton Slater has my little sister.
I'm drenched in sweat, so I tear off the covers and chug the glass of water on my nightstand. Fuck this. I can't take it. I hate waking up alone every night at five a.m. with pictures of that monster dwelling in my mind. The image is fresh—I still see him standing over me in that alley with a knife, and then he's beating me, then he's holding the blade to Charlotte's throat.
I want to hurl, but more than anything, I need a hug. So I go downstairs, painfully aware that I won't like what I'll find in the basement.
It's so quiet in the house, like a crypt. The hardwood floor creaks beneath my feet as I walk, not looking at any of the photos on the walls, not thinking about Charlotte.
A faint orange glow from a lamp lights the basement. Coming down here to see Lucy used to excite me, but in the week Charlotte has been missing, every time I walk through that door, I'm faced with disappointment. I stop before Lucy's room and take a deep breath. Is there even a point in going in? I think she hates the sight of me.
She's been spending a lot of time at the station, mostly while I'm at school, and she doesn't like talking about what happens there. But I know, sort of. Her confession had reopened the case of her father's murder, and Lucy's the prime witness. For the first time in my life, I'm glad my dad's a cop. They drew up a sketch of Colt and sent out an AMBER alert. But my nightmares get worse every night, and Lucy's a part of them now too.
My whole family's broken apart.
Dad's been working overtime. I hardly see him, just quick glances over bowls of cereal before he's back at the station, and I'm back at school.
Ollie deals with it by drinking and going to bars, acting like everything's fine. He isn't around. Big surprise there.
But it's the hardest on Mom. She spends her days in front of the TV, glued to reruns of Gilmore Girls. Sometimes, when I walk by the living room, I catch her crying. She never notices me.
A sob from the other side of the door breaks my thoughts. With my heart heavy, I knock, and after some shuffling and sniffling, Lucy says, "What?"
I open the door. She's curled beneath the blankets, her face hidden.
"Go away, Elliot. I don't want sex."
"That's not why I'm here." Fuck, I hate being so dramatically emotional, but I can't help it. I'm already crying. "Why do you always assume the worst of me?"
