~Chapter Twenty-Five~
"Elliot Dupree!" the name was called out in a bored loud voice. I glanced towards the approaching officer and cringed as I found my father walking behind him. I didn't need this right now.
I was sure with the swift punch Mongo had gotten in that I was going to have a purple eye, and a sore body from the work out we'd had on his lawn. Thankfully for the mother a patrol had been passing by.
I glanced back to Mongo whose bruises were already starting to show. Anger unlike any other rose within me. The asshole glared right back at me, shaking his head in annoyance.
"You're a pig," he spat.
I scoffed, a smirk pulling at me. "At least I'm not a sleazy racoon,"
"Both of you, shut it," the officer said, both our parents before us now. Morgan wasn't laughing this time, and it made me weary. I'd always been watchful of the scoundrel since the first time we'd switched. A laughing kid had more under his sleeve than he gave. I should have known his sudden interest to return to the school had been for her.
Asshole had kissed her. Asshole had kissed her but on her request. That's what made it so much worse. Pain racked through me again; it was a familiar feeling. I hadn't prepared for anything that had happened over the past days. I'd guessed her too sound of mind to even think of falling in love.
But she'd fallen in love. That had been the worst thing. I should have stopped the moment she'd started giggling and diverting secrets. I should have kept her away, and stayed very far away from the ranch. That night had ruined everything.
I knew from all the time I'd known her that she was not confused about her feelings. The desperation she'd shown and the suddenness of her proclamation could have questioned the words but those were thoughts that had been toppling in her mind for some time. What I couldn't understand was why she'd asked Morgan to kiss her.
Anger pulled out once again. It was an emotion that always happened, always kept me walking and moving and breathing. It kept me awake in the middle of the night when all I thought of was...
My father's glare was downright cold. I'd been on the other side of it so many times now I didn't bother shrinking as I glared back. "He started it," I growled as the woman's complaints started getting on my nerves. "With your explanation please add how your son's the one who shoved me first."
Morgan laughed mockingly; but it was the muscle popping along his neck that let known he was holding himself back, just as I was. "She said she fucking loved you and you threw it back in her face," he said. "I'd gladly do it again you sour puss."
The insult didn't go unnoticed. I stood up, as did Morgan. "Say that again," I demanded. The officer got in between us but between the two of us throwing insults and getting riled up for another fight, more officers had to intervene. But it was my father who pulled me away.
"Enough with you two," his glare flicked between me and Morgan, but it stayed on me. "I've had enough of shit with that girl. This should be the last time I have to pull your ass out of this pile, am I correct?"
And images blared at me. Instinct reared its head and I had the sudden urge to stand at ease, arms behind my back, attempting to keep my aching, near sore body up as sweltering heat strove to drive me back down, all the while keeping every flinch and disgusting thought at bay as my commander spoke and spat at me just to get a rise from me.
It made me shake and swelter and reminded me of everything I'd missed by going to the military base, of the years she'd been taken back and forth from the hospital, every pain and anguish she'd had to endure, all the while her sons were kept in the dark.
I glared right back at my father. After so many years the size difference was no longer visible and the only way to tell who was what was by the features. He'd refused to tell us what was happening. He'd refused to allow us the only time we could have been with her.
He'd sent us to the military knowing she was ill.
"It should've been the last time you lied to me," I said, voice calm and stoic as I watched him. His face suddenly lost the anger. His stance slouched. He didn't say a word as my words registered to him.
"Elliot," Elijah's voice broke from beside us. I knew he was there. "It wasn't his fault and you know that."
I scoffed. "All I know is that he didn't tell us shit when our mother was in a freaking hospital dying of cancer," I said.
Our father just stared at me, watching me as I watched him. He didn't look guilty, more like resigned. Why would he be? How could he be?
It made me think about what I'd done. I'd gone and thrown the love of a woman in her face, twice. One could never hear it again, but the other was at this moment preparing to return to England.
"I don't care shit if you go ballistic. I'm going to see Chrys again and nothing's going to stop me; not you, not him, and not anyone."
It was a determined stride that brought me to the dining room the next day. I didn't care as I passed my disgruntled brother who moved out of the way at my approach.
"Someone's in a rush," he said.
"Five minutes," I called back as I rushed into the room. I had to get to her. Emotions welled up within me, boiling and roving in ways that shouldn't have been possible. But there it was, the feeling that something undeniable was about to happen.
It would. I'd show her because the world knew I didn't know how to use words.
"Elliot?" Rosa called, stepping into the dining room.
Toast already gobbled down I was in the middle of gulping my juice. I hummed but then fully swallowed. "I have to go, Rosa," I said, remembering her conversation with me just hours after I'd kicked Chrystal from my life. "There's a short girl that needs to know something." This I said as I pecked her cheek with a grin.
"Wait, child," she said, exasperated and sounding in distress. I would follow that later, I promised myself as I pulled up my bag and strode for the parlour, which would take me to the front door. "There's something you should know–"
But she didn't need to finish. My feet strode to a halt as the room at large stared back at me. Something fell heavy in my chest as I stared across the room to my parent, his girlfriend and the officer who'd taken me in the previous night.
I groaned. "I thought we were done with this," I said as I made to walk back. But Rosa was there, staring up at me with the most wounded face.
"Elliot?" Caroline, my father's girlfriend, had a scared, saddened voice that had me stopping. What was up with this house? It was just getting arrested.
"Yes, I got into a fight and got arrested," I said, feeling annoyed at the time slipping by. "I'll apologise later but right now I have to get to school–"
Elijah strode into the room then. He stared at the room, eyes growing wide, before he narrowed them at me. "What did you do now?"
I scowled amazed at the comradeship of my twin. But before I could reply, our father's booming voice pulled us to the room. "Boys!" we all looked to him, but it was as Jonny ran into the room followed by his father that I knew this wasn't about last night.
"Alright," I said slowly, a foreboding crawling down my spine. My bag lowered into the seat beside me. "I want an answer to the obvious. What's going on?"
It was the cop to answer. Things took a twisting turn from that day onward. Chrystal had been kidnapped just after she'd left us at Morgan's place. A letter had been found in her car, abandoned in the middle of the road. She'd been nowhere to be seen as traffic had lined up behind her car, her door wide open.
As a suspected kidnapper, I'd been put on house arrest until something else could come up. Surprise there! But I hadn't been a willing occupant and the constant jabbing and questioning as to my character had brought me to breaking point more times than one.
Morgan, I learned, was in a near same position thanks to his damning file and acquaintance with me. Shit was spewing left and right but there was one thing that left me angry with everyone and myself.
I'd been too late. Again!
The vase went sailing across the room, crashing with a loud splash against the wall at the far end of my room. A gasp sounded at the door way of one room. I turned to it, panting heavily; angry that I was a suspect when I bloody loved that annoying girl, and at that moment she could be in pain, shouting for help or... who knew.
"Elliot?" Caroline asked, standing uneasily on the doorway. "Are you alright?"
I laughed at that. It was short, but a burst of panic and anger and helplessness as I couldn't do anything to find her, stuck in a house because of my own choices. I'd lost my chance. That was it: I'd lost my chance and pulled her into this path.
"Yeah," I said, nodding dumbly as I turned away. "Just wanting to punch something."
A call had been made, thankfully, but it had been from a payphone. The attacker was demanding three million that was to be dropped in a shoot in a local laundry house. It was a man.
It was obvious that Mr. Jenkins could to pay that and more, but the price gave some clues. The caller made no promises about Chrystal, and that's what drove everyone nuts. It was only one whisper and the article hit newlines rather viciously.
More days and nights were spent attempting to find other ways to get her back, and through the whole ordeal things turned raw for me. I was forced to return to memories I'd shut away, but restless nights and endless days brought them to the forefront of my mind.
They plagued me. I'd had a chance to say goodbye with my mother. In her death bed in this same house we'd nursed and loved her in the time we, her sons, had found out about her health.
But I'd had to lose control, and because of that I'd near killed someone else. By the time I'd been well enough, she'd already been six feet under, with Gloria incapable of moving her legs. It was all because of me.
The break of a whole week of madness was broken with one phone call. The boxing rhythm was broken off with the ring of my phone, and as I'd answered, the little girl's voice had been the sweetest news to my ears.
We all surged forward as a bullet seared the air. It was really the adrenaline wanting to make certain Chrys was alright. As I barged through the door, the image before me was not what I wanted to see. I wanted to find my sweet Chrystal tied up and alright other than raw skin, but not kneeling before a collapsing body with a gun in her hand, blood pooling all around as a little girl cried over her dying brother.
She glanced up; eyes wide and scared as she forced to speak but stuttered uncertain words.
"Elliot," her whimper was small, uncertain and broken. I never wanted to see Chrystal like that again.
Hullo!
I know you're probably wondering. The last time I posted I accidentally put up Chapter Twenty-Five. I did see it, but I though 'Heck, why not?'. Then the OCD picked up and here I am, fixing it. Heh! Anyhow, I'm posting Chapter Twenty-Six next, and today. Don't fret; I promise I'm no ogre. Just a witch! And I charm you into reading... hee-hee-hee!
Creepiness aside, have fun. Yvie.