The Skeletøn Bøy

NINETEEN

"It was like when you make a move in chess and just as you take your finger off the piece, you see the mistake you've made, and there's this panic because you don't know yet the scale of disaster you've left yourself open to." ― Kazuo Ishiguro

++ C H A P T E R | N I N E T E E N ++

Elliott couldn't get far enough from the house. Mat had held him down long enough to calm him down, but when there was a knock as the door and a tall, blonde man was there with a smile, Elliott lost it.

He looked too much like his own father.

It had been Wes's father, there to pick up Anna for a date, and Elliott lost it. Completely lost everything.

Elliott could remember snippets of his father. He'd been so young when he pulled the trigger, and most of his memories were blurry. He had only been seven. But, he could remember his father's blonde hair, and his tall build. He could remember his smile, and the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

Those memories only made Elliott cry harder. He'd never once cried over his father - mother wouldn't let him mourn. She watched him all the time, keeping an eye on him, making sure no tears leaked out of his eyes.

He never had time. Now, he had tons of it.

Elliott could remember the feel of the gun in his hands. It was small and heavy, and the recoil had hurt his hands something fierce. He could remember with clarity the look in his father's eyes. Just remembering it made him cry harder and realize what he had done.

He killed his own father. He was only seven, but he killed his own father.

It was to save Adrian and Mat! He internalized, but that didn't make him feel any better. It only made him feel worse, because he had picked them over his father. He could have done something. He should have thrown the gun to his father, or done something so that he didn't have to kill the man.

There were other options. And Elliott hated himself every day for not choosing them. For not thinking of them.

He could remember Adrian's face, and the horror that was there for weeks. Adrian stopped talking to him. Adrian stopped looking at him. It made Elliott feel so bad about what had happened. It made him feel like scum.

Mat didn't know. And Elliott was doing everything in his power to keep it that way. Who would ever love a monster like himself? He was a murderer.

Elliott pushed his legs to run faster. He needed to run, to gain freedom. He needed freedom from everything he'd been through. Mother didn't control him anymore. That was the only thing Elliott could think of as he imagined his father's face looking at him with disappointment. "You don't have to listen to her."

Someone grabbed Elliott's shoulder, sending him into defense mode. He spun on his heels, ready to throw a punch when he saw the person.

"Brent? What are you doing here?"

Elliott was panting as he leaned against a tree, still confused over the sudden appearance of Brent. He attempted to wipe his tears away, but it was no use. He couldn't stop crying.

"Elliott, what's happening? Why are you crying?" Brent tried to sound concerned, but all he could think of was how Natasha broke up with him for this.

"Nothing is wrong! Leave me alone."

Brent rolled his eyes as Elliott tried to stumble away. "Elliott, I'm not stupid. What's going on? You can't just run away from your problems!"