Nicole Lo: The flashbacks are kinda random, but they tell of the bigger picture.I'm lad you think it's agnsty and hopeless. It's what I strive for.
BlackRoseOnFire: Thank you, I updated, now you gotta review! Lol
SkittlesStar25: your welcome, I am, the best computer slapper you can find. Yep, the story is coming along. So I hope you enjoy
Chapter 4: Weep
My mom always had a saying, something along the lines of astrology. She was a big hippie to me, always with the insents and candles and things. I never paid any mind to it, I was in a morbid depressive shell during those times, but one thing that stuck out in my mind was the small little saying that she had always told me after I would get into an argument with her. She would always throw the bible at me.
There's just a mind numbing throbbing in my mind right now, I just want to die…
Die…wouldn't that be easy?
I finger the threads of fabric on the end of my shirt, a tattered old red one, and blink back tears or remembrance at the times I would come home from school only to meet my dad in a drunken frenzy and get a beating. Or worse.
There were so many things in my life that could've lead to my psychotic break. So many words that were said, so many actions that were done, so many events that took place. I wanted to finish thinking about my first time I met Ellie, but my memory is happening to be flittering around at the moment and only bad things are jumping to the front.
So…I was wondering….
I clutch my head in pain, that voice could smash mountains the way it sounded in my head
… Do you love me? Do you love me Elliot? Because I love you, I really really love you…
Elliot, did you wash the dishes?
"No…dad" I whispered out.
Sometimes I can't tell the difference between reality and surrealness. All I know is that the dull dreary walls of the hospital are washing away and the view of my kitchen is coming in to play…
"Elliot? Elliot?" My father screamed, slamming the back porch door behind. I looked at the clock, it was six thirty, and that was the time he normally got home for work. My mom is upstairs, blowing out the candles from her mediatory bath I would presume and just getting ready to go to bed. And even if I was to scream for help by now she probably already has her ear plugs in, a trick she learned to capture the sweet silence that I yearned for since I was ten, so I didn't even bother. Something simple would probably set him off. I just backed away slightly until I was pressed up against the sink and swallowed the little spit that was still in my mouth.
"Yes…dad?" I asked, leveling myself against the sink. If he was the strike me now, it'd soften the blow since the sink had a towel draped around the edges. I already had a black eye from yesterday…
He raised his eyebrows at me, a cat like smirk playing upon his lips," Elliot, did you wash the dishes?"
That simple question echoed inside my head for the rest of my neurotic, mind dwelling, Novocain, obsessive compulsive, manic depressive life.
My mind suddenly flashed to me getting beaten up in the school yard before I got home from school. Right after wards I had tumbled up the stairs to stop the bleeding from the long gash on my right leg… I didn't have time to wash the dishes…
That was the day before I met Ellie…
"No…dad" I whispered quietly as he shook his head.
"Elliot…I fucking come home…and all I ask is for one simple fucking thing and this is what I get?" He asked, his voice eerily calm, he glanced over at the dishes in the sink, "Some fucking dirty dishes?"
"No…dad—I didn't-. I mean—"I was cut off as his hand slapped my face with a powerful force, making me topple over into the back of the sink. He looked at his nails as he advanced on me." Don't-"He slapped me again, "Fucking…" He slapped me the opposite way, "Let…"
Slap.
"It…"
Slap.
"Happen…"
Slap, slap…
"Again…"
Slap, slap.
The second slap hurt the most. He grabbed his empty beer bottle and threw that to the sink, murmuring something along the lines of "Clean that shit up" before walking out the house and into the living room where 2 minutes later I could hear rock music emitting forth, something loud and pounding at that. I turned, face red and sore, back towards the sink and began washing the dishes quietly.
It wasn't the worst beating for me in history, but it still hurt all the same.
I shoot up with a start again, looking over hazily at the person next to me and trying my best not to seem weird, but my vision is fucked and all I see is a grey outline of them. I can tell they're smiling as they take my hand and whisper into my ear something barely audible. I can hear it…though…at least…I can…I think….
It's too much; I pass out again, all the whispers whirling around me. There was a weeping sound also.
Do you love me Elliot, do you? I really, really love you…
Could we be together forever…?
Kiss me Elliot, one last time…
I love it when you look at me…
Is there anything that can separate us?
I'm cold baby…hold…me before I go…
It's funny that you say I love you after you see him…
Am I your only desire? Or is he your next target in love…?
He was never a target, I really loved him.