I want you to tell me about my past.”
33
Elsa
Uncle stands up, forcing a smile. “Pumpkin, what you heard just now is —”
“The truth.” I cut him off. I never cut Uncle or Aunt off, but today is different. “And I want to know the rest of it.”
“H-hon,” Aunt stammers. “It was a long time ago.”
“Abandoning me and Mum was also a long time ago, Aunt?”
She gasps, her hands covering her mouth.
“I heard you the other day.” My voice is neutral, almost too detached.
I don’t know how to speak in any other tone without breaking down.
“You owe me an explanation,” I tell them.
A deep sigh rips from Uncle’s chest as he staggers backwards and falls beside Aunt. “Tell her.”
Aunt touches her temple with trembling fingers. “N-No.”
“We knew this day would come, Blair.” Uncle’s jaw clenches. “Just tell her already. She deserves to know.”
“I said no, Jaxon!”
I rip my gaze from her and focus on Uncle. “Who’s Eli?”
His eyes widen like I’ve never seen them before.
Like he’s having a heart attack.
“Oh, God,” Aunt’s voice catches on a sob.
Usually, I would do anything not to see them like this, but not today.
Today, I need answers even if I have to hurt them in the process.
“I had a dream — no, a nightmare — about clutching his hand before he disappeared into the lake.” The itch starts under my skin. “Who is he?”
“It was just a nightmare, hon,” Aunt doesn’t even sound convincing anymore.
“They were never nightmares, Aunt. The ache and the pain and the tears were never nightmares. The blood, the screaming, and the whimpering were never freaking nightmares!”
“What on earth have you been through, pumpkin?” Uncle sounds defeated, completely and utterly worn out.
What have I been through?
They’re the ones who are supposed to tell me that.
“I’m asking for the last time, Aunt. Who the hell is Eli?”
“He was your brother,” Uncle says in a low voice.
I grip my backpack’s strap so tight, I’m surprised it doesn’t snap. “W-Was?”
“He died in that lake you always have nightmares about.”
It’s as if someone took a knife and jammed it straight into my defective heart.
I’m bleeding and no one can stop it.
“H-how?”
Uncle’s eyes fill with sympathy. “He drowned, pumpkin. He was just seven at the time, a year older than you.”
No.
Eli can’t be dead. Eli has to be alive.
“You’re lying,” I shriek.
Uncle starts to stand up, about to comfort me no doubt, but I hold up a hand.
“No. Don’t even come close. I need to know why that happened.” I glare at Aunt who’s been watching her shoes and rocking back and forth. “Tell me, Aunt.”
Uncle nudges her. She flinches, but she doesn’t lift her head.
“I loved Abby. I really, really loved her. She was a shy girl who always took the shit our Da threw our way. He was a fucking lunatic when on the liquor, but he became worse after Mum’s death.” She continues rocking back and forth, appearing like a lost puppy instead of the alpha women I always knew her to be.
“Mum went to pick up Abby from her music class and they had an accident in which our mum died. Da took all his anger on us, especially Abby since she looked so much like Mum. He told her, a twelve-year-old at the time, that he wished she died instead of Mum.” Aunt meets my gaze with tears in her eyes. “Da was a cruel man, Elsie. He was vicious and unapproachable when he was drunk. I always spent most of my time outside, but Abby was there. She refused to leave his side even when he beat her, when he beat us. After I got my scholarship for Cambridge, I begged her to come with me, but she refused. I told her I’m never returning to Birmingham, to a place that killed me slowly and to a father who suffocated me. I told her that I might not see her again, but she didn’t change her mind.”
She swallows audibly as if summoning the courage to say the next words. “Then, a year later, she sent me wedding pictures with your father. She told me she was happy and she wanted me to be happy. Then…” She clears her throat. “She sent me pictures of her firstborn, Eli, then… of you.”
“And you still never came,” I ask.
“I had a trauma in Birmingham, Elsie. The moment I step into it, all I recall is Dad throwing an ashtray at my head because I hid his liquor.” She pulls the side of her