about to drop a bomb.
I couldn’t care less about the Steel money or the last name.
The only image that keeps playing in my head is Ma singing me that haunting lullaby before someone drowned me in the water.
Ma was lonely.
She was mentally ill.
She needed help and no one gave it to her.
“You abandoned her,” I tell Aunt with a chilling calmness. “You abandoned your only sister when she needed you the most.”
“Elsie, I…”
“Am I your way of redemption. Is that it?”
“No, Elsa. I love you. You’re my daughter.”
“I only became your daughter at the expense of losing my real mother, Aunt.”
Before she can say anything, I drop my backpack on the chair and walk out of the door.
Then I start running.
34
Elsa
I run.
I go at it for hours or a day, I’m not sure.
I run until no breaths remain in my lungs.
I run until everything blurs.
The rain pounds down on me, soaking my clothes and my hair. My fingers become stiff with the cold and my shoes slouch with water.
My heart’s palpitations become scarier by the minute, but I don’t stop.
I can’t stop.
No tears come out no matter how much I want to cry. Droplets of rain stream down my head and my cheeks as if rinsing me.
But there’s no rinsing me from the past.
Everything will come back.
Everything will hit me again.
I gulp air, but barely anything reaches my lungs.
There’s a monster in my chest, a dark ugly monster who claws at my walls.
The monster wants to be set free.
It’s one of the monsters from the nightmares. A monster that will eat me alive.
The same monster who took Eli.
My heart thuds at the thought.
Eli.
My brother Eli. My mother Abigail. My father Ethan.
My family.
How can I not even remember their faces properly?
They’re a blur. A shadow. Black fucking smoke.
Is that what’s been wrong with me all this time? The itch, the nightmares, all the triggers have been a way to make me remember, weren’t they?
So why the hell can’t I remember them?
I come to a screeching halt, catching my breaths. My heart thunders in my chest in that irregular, frightening rhythm.
The heart that Jonathan saved just so he can destroy me when I’m older.
The heart that was shot at.
Who shot me? Who the hell would shoot a seven years old girl?
The rain blurs my vision. The buildings surrounding me start to double then to triple.
I lean against a wall, breathing harshly.
I don’t feel so good.
My heart beats so fast. I take deep inhales and release long exhales.
It’s not working.
I reach for my phone, then stop. I left the backpack with my phone in it at home.
With trembling hands, I push my hair back and try to walk. I stumble and nearly fall. I clutch the wall with stiff, wet fingers.
I search around me, but it’s deserted, probably because of the rain.
A buzz goes off in my ears and my eyes flutter closed. I lean against the wall, inhaling heavy choked breaths.
“Crybaby.” Eli’s voice rings in my head. “Come with me.”
My heartbeat slows down until it’s no longer scary but it’s also not there either.
“Why did you go, Eli?” I whisper and I feel like that six-year-old girl whom he released her hand. “Why did you leave me alone?”
“I didn’t leave you alone, crybaby. Another Eli came.”
“Another Eli?”
“Shh.”
His voice drifts and so does his image. I try to catch him, but he turns into smoke.
Eli…
Tears rim my eyes and I fall.
Or I think I do. Someone clutches me before I hit the ground.
Strong arms surround me, lifting me off the ground.
It smells good.
It smells safe.
“I got you,” that voice whispers.
My eyes flutter closed and I let go.
I got you.
A headache hits my temple.
I groan while sitting up.
For a second, I’m too disoriented to figure out where I am.
The bedroom’s dark decor with the large bed prickles my memory.
The Meet Up.
My eyes open wide and I push my hair back.
Aiden.
My heart beats then sinks into itself at the thought of him.
How did he find me? Also, why the hell would he even find me after the show Jonathan pulled at our house this morning?
Only a bathrobe and a sheet cover my nakedness.
The room’s temperature is warm. It almost feels like a cosy morning.
Almost.
The door opens without a sound. My shoulders strain with tension at the thought of seeing him.
I can’t even pretend that his presence doesn’t wreak havoc in my heart and mind.
Hot chocolate scent wafts in the air from the steaming cup he’s carrying.
His tousled hair seems damp. He’s wearing dark jeans and