~Chapter Twenty-One~
I wasn't allowed to see him. Life had quickly become a confiscating fist.
The news of Elliot's imprisonment had spread like wild fire, started as a campfire only to spread far and wide without inhibition, grappling at dried twigs and forgotten nests, rising to the skies with high, fully grown trees full of dried bark, and this metaphorical picture was the equal of what happened. News spread far, and speculations and truths were mixed into it all to create a smoky hazard.
The first week of school was a mind boggling spectacle as glances were cast my way, speculations thrown back and forth. Some thought it was my bratty idea to send him to jail, having lost patience with the war about school. None had seemed to linger on the idea that Elliot and I had become something more than rivalling warriors. In fact, the white flag had been cast when someone had near stumbled on us smooching, but the anger that grumbled inside me from that idea had more than one friend staying away, and that brought more solidity to that theory than I'd wished.
Of course, Elaine and Meredith knew the truth, but Elliot's friends had advised against contact, as advised by Elliot's lawyer. I was left with the few friends I'd made ignoring my presence, the school I'd quickly become attached to hating the very air I breathed, while the eagle eyes seemed to make things more real, and I wanted to cease it all.
But what could I do? The answer to that question came easily a few days later. How had I been so blind? I was once the best at discovering her ploys before she could cast the dices; I unravelled them, broke them into dust, always receiving that indignant huff or that stubborn chin. Yet, here I was in Canada, attempting to discover how I'd missed this ploy.
Elliot's seat glared at me every time I was in a class. It asked me why I'd abandoned its owner; why I couldn't see the only way out. My heart broke every time an escape mocked me in the face for failure after failure. It was not an option.#
"There she goes," a female had whispered in a hushing tone, but I heard, not far enough away from them.
Another female had scoffed. "Why doesn't she just leave already?" she said. "Can you imagine the guts she has to say Elliot kidnapped her? For what?"
"I hear Elliot and that Mongo kid had some sort of off, all because of her," the first female had said. At this point I was before my locker, pulling out books I may carry with me, not knowing the future that no longer cared about my say.
The male chose to speak. "Hey now, let's not forget Pretty Boy's not a saint," he said. "Drug charges, vandalism, illegal drinking and driving. Let's not forget that murder charge."
The locker had shut a little more forcefully than I'd intended it to. A murder charge? That was preposterous. There was no way Elliot could kill someone. Sure, I'd never seen him fight, or seen him lose his cool other than the one time he'd near thrown me into the pool, but for such an idea to spread through the school... it must have been a jaded fact, interwoven with lies.
The silence had been palpable as I'd moved past them, but later, as I'd stormed into my brother's room and horded his computer, the truth had hit me as Jonny had slowly, unsurely, opened a window. The FBI had an unwarranted leach on their lines as Jonny's window had showed Elliot Dupree's murder charge.
It wasn't the file that stemmed this idea into mind, but rather what conclusion I achieved by reading it. Eliot Dupree had been the drunk driver in a car accident that nearly killed his girlfriend, Marinna Carson, on the same night his mother had passed away.
The news came as a shock to me. I'd known he'd lost his mother, and he'd never wanted to speak about it, always avoiding the topic. It hadn't just been on anything; she'd died of cancer, a long struggle that begun when he was ten years old, and right when he should have been with her, he'd been drunk and out of his wits, driving with his girlfriend in the passenger seat.
I finally understood. I knew what he must have felt, having stayed away the one time she'd needed me; when my brother had needed me the most. Hours later I was informed of the tragedy that had taken place, and the little boy I'd promised to always care for had been left alone, screaming for help. But help had come in too late.
"It wasn't your fault," Jonny whispered, arms around my shoulder in a comforting hug only he could give.
I laughed, though it held no amusement and was all a distraction over the pain that had resurfaced. "Yes, well, guilt doesn't always allow you to see that," I said, glancing up at my little brother. When he stared at me like so, like I was the one in need of support and he would whole heartedly provide it, it made me wish for different possibilities. It made me condone the idea of forgoing many of my rules, to never question the quality of the lemons life hands you, and wish he'd had a better life.
"You shouldn't be so old in a young body," I said, reaching up to peck his forehead. Jonny made a disgusted sound that had an involuntary smile quirking my lips.
No one should suffer, and continue to suffer. Hard truths pulled from the confines of my mind and slapped me rather harshly as they landed on me. I was my mother's daughter as she had been her mother's daughter.
My mother had accepted what had been thrust at her since birth, and, although with a different technique that allowed choice and chance than what grandmother had showed her, she'd taught me to accept this role. Not once in her life had her choices been selfish or, and, put someone else's future in jeopardy. Elliot's possibilities of getting out of this were a narrow line that was slimming slowly with time.
I'd fallen in love with Elliot, and by God's graces, I would have loved to have him for as long as I could. I understood it was teen love, the kind of love that always has the chance of fading with time, but an ache in my heart swelled at so many ideas, but one ache that became constant was the knowledge I was making him suffer.
I'd already known the enormity of our situation, but had feared the choice I'd have to make: to thrust myself into the centre of my end. My life wouldn't be my life any more, but rather the constant windblown feather that was directed by rules and codes of conduct and humility and the arrogant pose of a director.
To save Elliot, I'd have to cease being Chrystal Dupree, and as the days ticked on to my birthday and Elliot's case was purposefully suspended, much to the dismay of his father, who had remained a widow this whole time, I realised I would never have had the chance to this chaos if it weren't for him.
I owed it to Elliot.
I left my brother's chambers with a hollow heart and growing foreboding weighing every step I took down the hallway, down to the drawing room where I found my father, lawyer and Elliot's lawyer in a heated discussion that stopped suddenly at my appearance. I hadn't been made aware to the audience before me, but I said nothing as I walked towards the house phone and stared down at it, knowing the rest of my life started at this moment. My life for Elliot, who'd given me the greatest chance I could never be able to repay.
The operator was quick to connect the phones. "Hello?" this was the voice of her companion.
"I seek grandmother," I said. My father's brows shot upward in surprise. I ignored the sudden rise of a smile, ashamed and angered that those who claimed to care for me had the audacity to force me into this kind of choice.
"Darling, it's good to hear–" grandmother's voice was full of sunshine and spirit considering the time it was in England, and it served to irritate me more.
"Let him go," I said over her, cringing after the statement left my lips.
A moment's silence intensified the cringe, but anger and the image of Elliot kept me from closing my eyes, fully aware of the audience behind me. There was an amused hum on the other side. "You know I don't know what you mean, dear," she drawled in that annoying accented way she always spoke.
Prolonging the inevitable was going to torture myself and Elliot. Already three weeks had passed and in that time there were so many things that he'd missed, including his mothers anniversary. After his arrest had made news, it seemed every other article was pulling out personal details about him.
Elliot loved his privacy and appreciated everyone respecting his personal space as he respected theirs, and I understood that this had to be done so he could resume his life, preferably without me in it.
"I agree," I whispered. The silence was alarming, the thudding of my heart turned the whole thing into a scene from a horror flick where one knows one shouldn't answer the phone, but one does. The tension was a daunting one full of the realisation that a path had been chosen and this individual couldn't turn back in the one-way road one had chosen; there was only one way.
The panic made my hands falter and shake. It gripped at my chest and turned my insides into a quivering mess that did not bode well with my mind. It was at this moment I realised what I'd done. It was at this moment that the truth fell onto my shoulders and all the emotions I'd have loved to ignore rose to pull in my womb in a tumult of despair.
I'd lost control for love. I'd let passions rule over tactical analysis.
The phone clamped as I set it down.
"Chrys," my father's voice blared past the hollowing of emotions wrapped around me. I felt myself in a vacuum, unable to see where or how, just knowing what. My vision blurred as tears suddenly lifted their spirits, an exhale lodged in my throat, unable to blare out as emotions clogged its way, but it rose out as a chock.
"Get away from me!" the words were filled with retched loathing, and I ran from the area, unable to condone anymore pain.
Rosa was all smiles and happy surprise as she opened the door, but there was a sad tilt to her eyes. "It's so good to see you," she said, and I found myself engulfed in a hug. Knowing she was here, seeing her positive response to me, hope, unwarranted, surged within me. Maybe things would be alright.
It was dulled though as a man I had become acquainted to in wrong circumstances walked down the hallway from his office, dressed in a pair of charcoal grey pants and a white shirt tucked in with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. The situation in which we'd met gave reason for unsuspected and uncivilised discussions between us but, as he walked towards the foyer, he was an unreadable man.
"You must be Chrystal," he said, voice carrying not a hint of the anger I guessed he should have been expressing. He still made my heart jump every time we met as I was reminded that the twins seemed more like their father, but Samuel shared the same eye shade as his eldest son, as well as the way they both carried themselves with a hint of arrogance that made anyone immediately on edge.
I nodded, albeit hesitantly. A shivering had become a constant that was rattling at my nerves all the time. "You presume correctly," I said. "I, um, I was hoping to–"
"No offence Chrystal," we all turned to stare up at the stairwell, where Elijah stood, glaring down at me. No longer did he flash me a charming, playful grind: all through he always wore a scowl as he saw me, as he did now. It was a huge difference from the smiles and teases we'd shared once upon a time. "I'd rather you just leave us be. After what's happened, the best choice now would be for you to stay away."
My heart sunk. Something rose from within but I fought for it to stay down. I wouldn't allow passions into the forefront of my minds anymore, especially now.
Rosa's gasp was full of mortification, and she pulled her fisted hands to her hips, ready to reprimand Elijah. "That, young man, is not your decision to make, and I certainly think–"
The rest of what she said faded as my gaze lifted to a blur. It cleared as my gaze clashed with Elliot's icy blue. Cold stroked down my spine and froze everything it connected to, while a betraying flutter rose in my womb in hope. I didn't see the slight warmth, however, the crinkle of a tease, the quirk of a smirk or... I saw nothing. Elliot showed me nothing.
However, as dread filled me, I couldn't stop the quick once over I took of him, seeking to ensure he was alright, unharmed physically. He wasn't: there was a purple bruise on his jaw. The sight twisted somewhere deep in my heart. Hope I'd stored up to hold me up deflated in my womb. I met the frosty gaze once again, and had to clamp my hand tightly around the tin. It was truly over.
"Rosa's right," he said, and everyone turned up to stare at him, having not noticed him before he announced his presence. "It's mine." The finality in his voice crumbled the last of those flimsy metal bars against the mountain of ice.
I felt my chin droop, but strove to keep it up. It wouldn't do to look pitiful at a rejection. I couldn't stop the resignation piling into me, though. In five days, two hours and six minutes I would be eighteen years old. By that time the paper would be signed, my name added with a title I would have been glad to do without, and as soon as my birthday would be over, my inheritance from my mother and grandfather would be put in my name. Responsibilities will take up my days and fill my mind, while the little I had, I'd promised to Jonny. This was for the best, I thought strongly.
Life had changed. The one person I would have loved to be beside me through the future ahead of us currently stared down at me with accusation, distrust, anger and probably all sorts of emotions I strove not to see, or was carefully hidden from me.
I swallowed rather harshly and it was overly loud to my own ears. Elliot did not make us all wait, did not hesitate to speak his answer once, I assumed, he set his mind to it, as he had to the idea of us, but the pause before his unspoken answer was mind boggling.
"I want you to leave," he said determinedly. It wasn't like Elliot to dance around the situation but it was as unexpected as he'd been in my life, an iron fist around my heart.
Feeling worse than I ever could, I nodded my head, striving for a firm expression.. This was for the best, I repeated to myself. How could he trust me again after everything that had just happened? I demurely turned away from the stairs, away from him, away from the remnants of us. Rosa's expression was one of sympathy as she cupped both sides of my face in an affectionate touch that it leaned into.
"It was not your fault so don't you blame yourself about it," she said comfortingly. The words were spoken in earnest but their intention was not met. Instead of saying this, I nodded.
"I brought this," I said, and handed her the tin of cookies I'd baked in some show of peace. Though I didn't know the meaning of my exile, I supposed the intention could still be met. My intention had been to walked away without another glance, but wist took grip of my will and I glanced up the stairwell one last time. Perhaps it was my lousy excuse to see him one last time; perhaps I wanted to linger, although the idea made me frown, but it had to be done. "I hope you're alright," I said, meeting the cool gaze of a male I'd forever care for.
The words were the worst to say, I suppose, but I had to be sure. A muscle jumped on Elliot's jaw and he glanced away from me, but he turned back and nodded firmly, too firmly for my choice. Anger flashed briefly in his eyes, but then it was gone. I was left walking out the door, knowing this would be the last time I would see him, Elijah, his father and Rosa, in such an environment.
The steps away from the house were heart wrenching and dreadful. Life seemed to pause with an eerie whisper of denial threatening to bubble from somewhere dark devilishly resentful. What I once found colourful and cheering as I walked up the long driveway was now an overly long path down a thistle lane, too bright with blooming flowers that served such a silly purpose of decorating. What once made me reminiscence of other ideas full of rushing positive passions, now made me wish to be somewhere else.
Tears began to well up as memories drifted through my mind. He'd pushed me away. I knew I'd chosen to stay away; I'd chosen that he was better off without me, but the hidden fact was that Elliot no longer wanted me.
I quickly swiped at tears that chose to roll out of my control. But who cared anymore? I thought with a hiccup that threatened to push the full force of a flood I didn't want to reveal, at least not here, so close to him. Silly as it was, it was Elliot I thought of going to for comfort, which made the situation ironic. However, what were a few more tears escaping when life's curve ball had knocked me off my feet and was pressing me to the molten ground? This was really the beginning of my end and I couldn't fathom how to change it anymore.
A car blared. I stopped walking and turned to stare at it, shoulders shaking from barely repressed sobs. This was what I'd turn out to be since the first crack, and now it widened and widened until I couldn't pull the seams together anymore.
Muriel had gone ahead and pulled the car into the compound. I could have kissed him at that moment but instead chose to dive into the back seat he let open, seeking solace and comfort from solidarity.
"Mindless driving coming up," he called from the front seat, a glance cast through the rear-view mirror he adjusted. I near chocked on a laugh at the attempt to lighten things. Things were not ever going to lighten up: I was washed in darkness I would never pull out of.