++ C H A P T E R | F Ø U R T Y - T W Ø ++
Elliott froze, her palms sweaty and her ears ringing. This wasn't the basement, but Mother had done wonders to rearrange Elliott's old bedroom. The torture chair stood in the place of her bed, and her wardrobe was lined with toys. Toys Elliott had no interest in playing with.
"Meet your new siblings, Elliott!" Mother squealed with delight, from behind. When Elliott spun around, she took in the sight of Mother with a baby tucked tight in her arms and a toddler standing beside her legs. It shocked Elliott to the bone.
Brent's siblings. The sight of them, though she'd never met them before, made her angry. Angry that it was her fault Brent was not only downstairs facing death, but that his siblings were facing the same. Angry that Brent and his family had been suffering for forever because of her.
"Mother, why did you take these kids?" Elliott demanded, so furious that she wished she had never felt guilty for running away. It was a malfunction in Elliott's personality - she had always longed for the love of her mother. After suffering from the death of her father, who was possibly the only person who had cared about her, despite the fact he had always volunteered to leave her behind if the others could be safe, Elliott had always longed for someone. Anyone. She had Mat and Adrian, but they were different.
She was protecting them. But all she ever wanted was someone to protect her, someone to care and love her. It was a futile wish, but one that had stopped Elliott from ever calling the police on Mother, or for the longest time, running away from her. Elliott had always believed that Mother would come around and love her.It was a wicked wish. One that she now knew would never really come true.
After living with Anna, who truly cared, it was hard to go back to ever thinking Mother could. And with Adrian, who had stepped up to act as the older brother instead, Elliott felt that Mother's love wasn't actually needed. Or wanted.
And Elliott couldn't exactly forget about Brent.
Brent, the boy who had really become Elliott's only real friend. She thought Wes was, but it was abundantly clear Wes wasn't. The entire time, Wes had been pretending. The laughs, the job, the kiss, everything. Elliott's first crush, and her first kiss, had all belonged to Wes. It was just, there was something Elliott thought was good about Wes. Besides the first moment they had met, she had felt a connection.The fact that it had all been a lie made Elliott frustrated. Frustrated that she had been fooled so easily.
But Brent, he had never tried to fool her. He'd always been real with her since the beginning, even when he hated her. And when they became friends, Brent was always real and always had Elliott's best interest at heart.
Elliott didn't need Mother. She had a perfectly fine family waiting for her at home.
"Elliott, enough. I've finally found you the perfect subjects for our game. It'll be just like the animals, but more thrilling. Just wait until you have your hands on them. On their silky smooth skin, their blood just waiting to be spread." Mother got a far away look in her eyes, excited at the idea. She hadn't laid a finger on these children, because she knew they were Elliott's.
"Mother, I'm not-"
"You are." She threw the toddler in the chair, strapping him down in one smooth move. "You've been gone for too long. You've forgotten what it feels like to have a whip in your hands. You've forgotten the rush.
"Elliott took a step back. "You're crazy, Mother, and I want nothing to do with you."
Mother got a wild look in her eyes as she yanked Elliott forward, her nose pushed up against Elliott's. "You are my little skeleton boy. And you will do as I say, or you'll be in that chair next. I've done you a favor, Elliott. And I'm never letting you go. No one is here to save you. Everyone you talk to is dead."
Fear built up in Elliott's chest at those words. Dead. She didn't want to think about Adrian and Mat dead. She didn't want to think about Anna on the floor, eyes open with blood spilling out of her. And Brent. Elliott really didn't want to think about that. It made her sick to her stomach to imagine him lifeless.
"I'm not a boy, Mother. I'm a girl." Elliott pulled back, slapping Mother across the face. She took of her knee length basketball shorts, throwing them on the ground. She left the leggings on. She struggled out of the long sleeved underarmor shirt, then threw that on the floor next tot the shorts. She reached under her shirt, yanking the tight fabric from her chest. The fabric she had worn for years to keep her secret unknown. The normal, short sleeved shirt she left on, leaving her tattoos on display.
Mother gaped at her, angered by the action. "You are a boy! Act like one!" Mother screeched, reaching for her. Elliott dodged her, reaching into the closet, her hand wrapping around the closest whip. The toddler strapped to the chair was crying. The baby as well. But, Elliott blocked all of that out at she stared at Mother, the hatred building. All these years, I've been pretending. I've been forced to be a boy. I've been abused, neglected, yanked around. But not anymore.
Mother took a step closer. "Elliott, whip that child, or I'll do it."
Elliott cast a glance at the child in the chair. The familiar flare of need ran through her, but it was unwanted. Elliott was past this, past this abusive stage. She refused to become who her mother was.
The strange urge to whip the crying child was strong and apparent, but Elliott was stronger. She turned away from the child, and brought the whip down on Mother. The blow sent the woman gasping and staggering back. Mother's eyes narrowed at Elliott, surprised, but pleasantly enjoying it.
"Didn't that feel good, my little skeleton boy?" Mother cooed, her eyes alight with pride. Pride that her child was falling into the same patterns.
"I hate you so much!" Elliott screamed, bringing the whip back down. She shoved Mother after the crack of the whip, sending her crashing to the ground. Satisfied, Elliott turned towards the child on the chair.
"I'm letting you go, but you must stay in this room. I don't know who's waiting outside." She said urgently to the sobbing toddler.
"Bren Bren! Where is he?" The child cried, clearly panicked and afraid. It made Elliott's heart shatter into pieces, because she knew exactly where Brent was. And she knew that Brent wouldn't be saving him.
"I don't know, but we'll get you home safe and sound." Elliott promised, unbuckling the child. The moment Eric was free, he leaped from the torture chair. He was shaking, and afraid, and immediately reached for the baby.The action reminded Elliott of herself as a child, holding onto Adrian. It further made her heart ache as she watched the children and ushered them into the closet. Then, she faced Mother, who was smiling wickedly.
"Reminds me of when you were a child. Always so protective, aren't you Elliott."
Elliott clenched her hands into fists. She noticed the whip in Mother's hands, and knew what was about to go down. It was her against the master of abuse, and Elliott wasn't so sure she would prevail.
It didn't matter, though. Elliott was about to finish this once and for all. Every single memory of Mother abusing her flashed through her head. Every single blow, every single wave of abuse, every single hate act. Mat's diaper being smashed into Elliott's face. Having to bath in boiling hot water. Having to bath in ice water.
Having to starve to keep her siblings alive. Having to take the abuse from her siblings. Having to suffer everything, all of Adrian and Mat.
She wouldn't take any of it back. It had always been about them. But, now it was about her, and keeping herself alive. And Elliott wasn't about to back down. She couldn't save them now, but she could end Mother.
She had done all she could for Adrian and Mat. And it killed her inside to think of them as dead, all because of her. But, Elliott would have plenty of time to think about that later.
"Let's get this over with, Mother. I'm taking you down, once and for all."
"Yes, my little skeleton boy. Let us finish this."
And with that, Elliott tightened her grip on the whip, and let her urges take over. It was time to win.
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