"To run away from trouble is a form of cowardice and, while it is true that the suicide braves death, he does it not for some noble object but to escape some ill" -- Aristotle
++ C H A P T E R | F I F T E E N ++
Elliott's hands played with the knife in front of him. His mind was whirling, and he could hear the demons laughing at him from inside his head.
Kill yourself, skeleton boy. That is the only way you'll be free! They cackled. And Elliott began to believe them. The only way he'd be free from mother would to kill himself. It would save his brothers. Mother didn't want them - she wanted him. It had always been that way. She could care less about Adrian and Mat.
She wanted him. But, she couldn't have him if he killed himself.
She'd been inside the house, and made his bed. She could have killed Adrian or Mat. She could have killed Anna.
But no. She'd gone out of her way to torture Elliott through a note. She was playing with him, like a predator plays with its prey before finally going in for the kill. And Elliott would be damned if he let her play with her food.
He spun the knife, the light from the kitchen catching it. Elliott felt mesmerized by it. Kill, kill, kill the demons began to chant.
It was nearly three in the morning. No one was awake. No one would ever stop him.
Elliott brought the knife up, staring at it. One swipe across the neck would do it. But, Elliott was raised by mother, after all. And even he knew that was too painless. Elliott wanted to feel the pain. He wanted it so suddenly, it made him sick.
Elliott was just like mother. Adrian knew it. Mother knew it.
Elliott was determined to end his life before he became just like her. Before he became the monster mother wanted him to be.
In the bathtub, quick quick quick! Your blood will make the water thick! Lock the door, lock the door, that is when you'll truly soar! Even if they hear you shout, no one will be able to help you out! End your life, bring the pain, stop mother from playing this game!
The demons were relentless. They were persuasive. And Elliott was only human.
He brought the knife with him as he climbed the stairs. The demons chanted their song in his head on repeat, louder than his own thoughts. They drowned everything, every feeling, every regret, every logical thought.
Elliott locked the bathroom door. He left his clothes on and got into the tub, robotically. The demons were louder, now. Screaming. Luring him under their spell. Elliott turned the knob, and water came rushing out. Cold, at first, but then hot hot hot.
Elliott couldn't feel the pain. He was numb. He leaned his head against the tub, shut his eyes, and brought the knife up.
End your life, bring the pain, stop mother from playing this game!
End your life, bring the pain, stop mother from playing this game!
End your life, bring the pain, stop mother from playing this game!
* * *
Earlier that night, Natasha blew out a sigh as she sat in the front of Brent's car. She was growing impatient as she waited for her boyfriend to come out of his house. She could hear the cries from his new sister, and the yells from Eric, his brother. The sounds annoyed her to no end - it was why she was waiting in the car.
A smile graced her lips when Brent came outside, pushing Eric back inside. He rushed to the driver's side and slid in, a wide smile on his lips as he started the car. He looked over at Natasha and leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek.
"Not good enough," Natasha said, smiling cheekily as she leaned forward and kissed Brent.
"Okay, we're going to be late if we keep kissing like this." Brent laughed, carefree as he pulled out of the driveway. He knew for a fact he was in love with Natasha. Ever since he laid eyes on her when she moved to this town their freshman year of high school, he knew she was the one.
"Where are we going?" Natasha asked, excited to be spending time outside of school with Brent. She was eager for their date.
"It's a secret," Brent tried to keep a straight face as he drove, but it was driving him insane not to tell her. The pout on her lips made it hard for him to focus, but he was sure trying.
"You and your secrets, I swear." Natasha rolled her eyes and laughed.
Brent started to laugh, but that statement reminded him of Elliott, and the secrets he was hiding from everyone. Brent wasn't sure if his obsession with figuring out Elliott was due to mere curiosity or actual likeness, but he hoped with was the former. Elliott was alright, but Brent still couldn't picture the two as friends. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to be Elliott's friend.
But, Natasha did. For whatever reason, she enjoyed his presence, so it made sense that Brent had to as well. Or, he had to at least pretend, which wasn't that hard. He just needed to be nice to the pretty boy.
"We're going out of town?" Natasha broke his concentration, and he looked over at her doe eyes and her wild flaming hair. She was truly beautiful.
"Of course. Only the best for you." He took Natasha's hand and kissed it.
"You're the sweetest, really Brent. I already have my dress, you know."
Brent gave his girlfriend a sideways look. "Oh really? What color?"
Natasha smiled wickedly. "Your favorite - blue." These words caused Brent to whistle, and he tried to picture Natasha in a floor length blue gown, her red hair toppling out of its updo and her blue eyes calling to him...
"You're cute when you blush," Natasha pinched his cheek playfully. "I'll send you a picture of the color so you can match."
Brent pulled into the restaurant parking lot. Natasha just looked around, her lips pursed as she tried to place the location.
"Where are we?" She finally asked as Brent opened to door for her and she stepped out. From the parking lot, she could hear the music from inside, and she was very confused.
"I thought we'd shake it up. We always eat at the same places." Brent took her hand in his and led Natasha inside. Immediately, she hated it. The place was too dark, too stuffy, and too loud. Brent though, he loved it. He felt right at home as the waitress brought them to a booth close to the stage.
"Brent," Natasha said in a warning tone. "What is this?"
"Well, it's a local band playing so I don't know their name but -"
"No, I meant this place. This date. What is this?" Brent realized immediately that she wasn't happy, not in the slightest. Her eyes were narrowed, and her face was closed off. She was mad, alright. Brent could see the telltale signs.
"I thought we'd do something new. I love this kind of music and I was hoping you would too."
Natasha stuck her nose up in the air. "Please. This strange form of punk rock isn't doing it for me. It's too messy, and it smells like smoke in here." Natasha waved a hand in front of her face, trying to defuse the smell.
"Just give it a try, alright?" Brent sighed, a little let down because Natasha didn't like it. He thought the refreshing change from the fancy restaurants was well needed, but he was realizing that Natasha didn't need it.
When Brent had first met Natasha, she'd been real humble. She was poor when she moved to town, so she didn't expect anything out of Brent, but he gave her the world in hopes she would smile. It was clear things were changing. She wasn't humble, not anymore. Even Brent couldn't ignore the fancier clothing and the strange need to impress others. It was her father - he'd climbed his way from secretary to vice president of a local company in four short years. Now, Natasha had everything she had always wanted.
Natasha was changing, but that didn't mean he didn't love her. It just made everything confusing.
"Fine, I guess I can do that. Do you think they'll let me order some alcohol? Do I look old enough?"
Brent rubbed his forehead. "I wouldn't test it."
"We'll just see what happens." Natasha smiled and clapped her hands.
Brent jumped as his phone rang. He picked it up, looking at the caller ID. It was withheld, but he answered it despite Natasha whining to call the person back.
"Hello?" Brent said in an almost bored tone.
For a moment, there was no response, just quiet. Brent sighed, thinking this was just another prank call, but then the person spoke up, sending chills down his spine.
"Are you friends with my dear Elliott?"
Brent couldn't seem to breathe for a moment. The question was harmless, but the voice behind the question wasn't.
"Who's asking?" Brent decided to play it cool, his eyes focused on Natasha, who suddenly felt interested in the conversation. She leaned forward, hoping to catch what the person on the phone was saying.
"Just a concerned bystander." The voice was female, but it was raspy and lethal. It made Brent frightened, but he continued the conversation. It only added to his obsession to figure Elliott out, which was growing unhealthy and abnormal.
"Well, if you must know, we are. Sort of. Do you need something?"
There was another pause. Long enough to make Brent think the person had hung up on him, but that wasn't the case.
"If you know what's good for you, you will stay away from my little skeleton boy. By the way, you have a pretty little girlfriend. Wouldn't want anything to happen to her, hmm? Especially in that cute little dress she's wearing."
The line suddenly cut, and Brent dropped the phone on the table, his heart in his throat. He looked around wildly, trying to find the person on the phone, but no one looked out of place in the restaurant. There was no one on their phones, no one looking his way. No one.
Brent held his hand up. "Excuse me, waitress!"
Natasha was confused. "Who was that, Brent?"
The waitress came over, a tight smile on her face. "Is something wrong?"
"No, we need the check. Please." Brent could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and while he was terrified, his curiosity was only stronger. Why would someone call to tell him to steer clear of Elliott? Better yet, why did they call him skeleton boy?
Brent couldn't figure it out.
"Brent. Let me in. What's going on?"
Brent focused on Natasha for a moment, his stomach squeezing as he took in the dress she was wearing. Whoever was on the phone was here, watching them.
"Nothing. Everything is great."
Brent dug into his wallet as soon as he saw the waitress coming over with the check. He placed a $50 on the table and yanked Natasha up from the seat. "Keep the change," He said, hurriedly as he grabbed his jacket.
After rushing from the restaurant and turning on his car, he could finally calm down a little bit. Natasha was still confused, and she was demanding answers that Brent wasn't sure how to give.
He didn't have to. His phone rang again, and he jumped out of his skin as he reached for it. He expected to see the Withheld sign, but instead the phone alerted him that his mother was calling. Relief hit him hard as he answered the phone.
"Hi, mom."
"Honey, oh honey where are you?" His mother was crying, that much he could tell. His nerves suddenly were alive again, and the chills returned.
"Mom, what's going on? Are you crying?"
For a moment, all her could hear was her sobs. Then, she responded. "Someone broke into the house. They left a note saying they would be back, and with your father gone most of the day, I don't know if I can stay in the house."
Brent felt sick to his stomach. "Are the kids okay?"
His mother let out another sob. "Yes, they were with me, but Eric's room was the only one trashed. And the note was in his room."
Brent was paralyzed with fear. And he couldn't help but think the person who had called him from the restaurant was behind this, as crazy as it seemed. And he had a strange feeling that Elliott was somehow involved.
* * *
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