The spotlights focused on Eli and only him. He took in a deep breathe as he acknowledged all the thoughts in his head. "Love Roulette," the ending didn't suite it; not by far. He had rewritten the play a countless number of times; staying up late well into the night to complete such a vigorous task. Yet, the final scene would never be perfect because his life wasn't and neither was he. Clare had not taken him back, his mental state was spiraling out of control, and he was using people that could have been good allies to him if he had given them the chance.
Fiona eyed Eli nervously as he rose up from the prop bench he had been sitting on. The audience stared at him with intensity; carefully waiting to see what twist would form in this already dark and eerie play that Eli had concocted. It wasn't a false story, not by a long shot. It wasn't creativity, it was reality. The emotions poured into the show were raw and above all else, real.
Eli looked out into the audience and flashes of familiar faces, Cece, Bullfrog, Mr. Simpson, Ms. Dawes, and above all Clare, were the first he saw. Clare was his interest. Hell, she had been from the moment he laid eyes upon her.
He saw how a wave of tension was imprinted across her delicate face; the face that he had grown to love for like no other. He saw her lips pressed into a line and it was almost as if on cue that their eyes met. In that sheer encounter, Eli knew what he had to do. He knew what he what must be done in order to apologize to Clare and make a slight dent in the hopes of forming a clean slate.
The lights dimmed as Eli clutched the script in between his palms. He grew weary; almost angry at himself for keeping all of his emotions inside of him for so long. He hated himself for lettings things get as bad as they did with Clare. He despised himself for not taking his medication like he was supposed to. And in the midst of it all he felt cowardly, as well as regretful, for using Imogen as both as a rebound and a way to try and fix his broken heart, over the girl who still meant the world to him.
The words began to flow out of his mouth before he could stop them. "No matter how much you all want a happy ending, you can't have it!" he roared, making the audience alert and eager. "I tried to write one, but it's impossible. I rewrote and rewrote but things kept changing. And I hurt people and I…" Eli cut himself off as he saw Imogen appear from behind one of the spotlights. His voice had cracked as he remembered telling Imogen how she meant nothing to him. Her face of despair, sadness, and shock was etched into the fragments of his brain.
"And I knew they were hurt, but I didn't stop," Eli was chuckling at his own stupidity; his own foolishness and shame on how far he had let himself slip away from actuality.
"…Because your minds tricks you," he continued on, pushing his index finger firmly into the side of his head. There was no number that could count the deceitful images his brain had produced for him. They had done so the other night with Imogen. However, she wasn't Clare by a long shot. Her brown eyes would never be able to melt away and reveal the blue that he had longed to see by his side.
"It tricks you into thinking that things are fine, but they're not fine! Nothing is fine, it's all wrong!" Eli's voice had taken captive of the crowd as it raised to its highest level possible.
His eyes wandered deep into Clare's eyes and he was certain that he had to admit what he had been holding back. "I'm all wrong." The words, barely audible made Clare's mouth drop. A gasp escaped her.
Eli threw his hands up and said, "That's it. There is no happy ending." And it was with those final words that he reached into the back pocket of his black pants and pulled out a lighter. The script that he had been holding onto ever so tightly was now covered in an orange glow of fire. Eli watched as the flames engulfed the string of papers that he had made about his life. He watched the edges of the white sheets turn to an ash gray. He watched the black ink run off the pages as it melted due the heat. He fell to his knees.
"Lights!" Fiona called out and within an instant the theatre was dark except for the reflection of the fire upon Eli's worn out face. He had had enough. His internal struggle had exhibited all the strength, feeling, and soul he had.
It was Ms. Dawes who initiated the round of applause. No words in the world could describe how proud she was of Eli. The rest of those in the crowd stood up and the silent theatre was filled with cheers, whistles, and an array of claps.
Eli however didn't notice that any of this was going on as the smoke from the burning screenplay grazed past his eyes. He inhaled the scent and it was only when Fiona grabbed him by the arm did he rise to his feet.
The first pair of eyes he sought out was Clare's and he saw that her eyes were shining with tears. She blinked in succession trying to hold back releasing a stream of them. He saw how she had clenched her jaw and had tried to let the thoughts of crying pass her by, but even Eli knew that she knew they wouldn't fade.
What mattered to Eli was that he had touched her. She had felt his sincerity in his words and that he accepted that not every story could have a happy ending; especially there's. Not everything in life was made to be a fairytale. Life wouldn't be the same if it was.
Fiona's and Chantay's fingers intertwined with Eli's as they prepared for their final bow, but Eli was still lost in his daze. When he made contact with the audience again, he felt a hot tear roll down his cheek. He swallowed hard trying to send the knot that had welled up in his throat somewhere else. However, he knew this pain would not cease.
Eli had done what he had once dreamed of doing, creating a play that rattled the heart of those watching it, so why wasn't he happy? He was being praised by everyone that he knew. Ms. Dawes was saying how wonderful of a student he was and how he was the best she had ever had. Principal Simpson was delighted to share his feelings with Eli's parents. And as he walked from behind the closed curtain and onto the stage, everyone was patting him on the back and congratulating him for a spectacular job. Why did none of it matter? Why was Eli still numb from the inside out? Why was he still frozen with an immense amount of emotional conflict?
He walked towards the script and picked it up. He flipped through the pages quickly only seconds before he slammed it onto the ground. Eli sat back down on the bench that had initiated his whole play and hunched over in defeat. He guided his hand up to his forehead and massaged his temples.
"Everyone's talking," spoke a voice from behind Eli. It was his father, Bullfrog. "Looks like you're a hit," he said rather happily.
"I'm a fraud," Eli muttered. The words had not reigned so true.
"That wasn't Ari up there was it?" asked Bullfrog; his tone changing from a bit of joy to all seriousness. "The principal told me about your little mix up today. You haven't been taking your meds have you?"
Eli was saddened as he thought about the reason why he had stopped taking his meds. It was to be more creative and write his play, but in all honesty, it was because he was scared. He wanted to prove something to himself, that he wasn't going crazy, that he could survive the devastation of a broken heart. Yet, Eli didn't have the strength and that terrified him. Love made him tremble and seeing the person he cared for ever so dearly walk away, shattered the remaining pieces of his heart.
Eli let out a forced laugh. "What does it matter? Meds or no meds, she still hates me."
Bullfrog sighed desperately and took a seat next to Eli. He put his arm around his shoulder. "I want to scream at you, Eli for lying to us this whole time, but I can't because I'm afraid of what you'll do. If you'll hurt yourself."
Eli cut in sharply, "I won't." His lip quivered.
"Your mom and I, we always let you kind of do your own thing, but we got to start treating you like a kid, watching out for you more."
Remorse tugged at Eli's heartstrings. His dad was putting the fault on him and his parenting skills. He was in no way a bad father. "Don't blame yourself," Eli demanded. He knew it was him who deserved punishment for his actions. "I wouldn't let you help me."
Eli licked his lips. "I want to get better."
"So you can get Clare back?" Bullfrog exclaimed.
"No, I want to get better for me."
When both Bullfrog's and Eli's eyes collided, there was no doubt in either of them that a new path for Eli was emerging. He would take his medications regularly, attend therapy, and shape himself into a better person. He would heal the wounds that had torn him apart. He would mend his bleeding heart and become better.
As Bullfrog embraced Eli in his arms, seeking a new disaster everyday drifted further and further away from his mind. Not moving on from Clare was what was killing Eli. No, the girl wit the blue eyes would never be forgotten or erased. How could she be? However, Clare had to be let go of in order to make Eli become an extraordinary machine.