Ellison
On my bed, I close the window that contained Drix’s information. I had been scrolling the pages, reading the police reports, the district attorney recommendations, but then stopped because also included were Drix’s therapist’s notes from Drix’s stay in juvenile detention. Won’t lie, I’m curious, but with the changes he went through in a year, Drix had to have poured out his heart and soul into the program and into therapy. Reading anything, even if was meant for my father’s eyes, would be invading Drix’s privacy.
I twirl a lock of my hair around my finger and pull. There’s pain along my scalp, but it’s nothing like the shredding of my insides. They used me. My parents used me.
Drix is right, I’m trapped. I’m a puppet, and I not only had no idea I was being moved along the stage against my will, but I’ve discovered the constricting feeling in my lungs is me being strangled by the strings.
One year left of high school. Four years of college. My head pounds, and I lower it into my hands. How many decisions in my life were truly mine? Or have I been so easily manipulated my entire life?
Good try at archery, Elle, but wouldn’t you much rather try ballet? The Beta Club is an honor, but wouldn’t you feel that your time would be better served if you tried your hand at drawing? You’re such a pretty girl, why wouldn’t you want to help on the campaign trail?
Good girl listening to us. Good girl. We love you, Elle. So proud and we love you.
Did they? Have they ever? Am I only loved if I succeed? Because that’s how it’s always felt. I want their love. I have needed their love, but what has their love cost?
Me. It’s cost me myself.
I flinch with the ache that rolls through my body and rock to try to ease the pain, but it doesn’t ease. It only grows.
Even though I know that my plea will be swallowed into the text black hole, I send it regardless because I need to be heard, even if it’s just to myself: They used me.
Used me. Their daughter. A pawn in their bloody chess game.
My cell rings, my heart stutters, and I immediately accept the call. “Henry?”
“What happened?” his question swift, the demanded answer implied.
“Where are you?”
“Still on base. We’re grounded due to equipment malfunctioning on our transports. Don’t know for how long, though, but that doesn’t matter. Talk to me.”
Talk to him. He and I, we’ve talked for years. Him trying to ease me past my sheltered world. Me trying to convince him to return home. “What did you do? When you fought with Dad and you left, what did you do?”
Silence on the other end and I’m so tired of people thinking I can’t handle the real world. So far, my fake world has been brutal. The real world honestly can’t be worse. “Tell me or I’m hanging up.”
“I did what your parents told me to do,” he finally says. “Until I didn’t.”
“What does that mean?”
Crackling on the line and I look at my cell to see if we’re still connected.
“Henry?”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.” That quiet voice doesn’t belong to a soldier, but to a tired boy.
“You won’t.”
“I screwed up, Elle.”
I release a long breath. “So have I. Maybe I need to know I’m not alone in messing up.” Silence again and I internally will him to talk to me. “Please.”
“After Mom and Dad died, I trusted your parents. Bought into everything they said. I did what I was told, when I was told. To me, your dad was a god. He made it out of my small town. He made it out of poverty. He made it out when my dad didn’t, and moving in with you and them was bittersweet. I missed my parents, but I knew if I listened to your dad, I’d become successful like him.
“So I did it all. I went to college, I took classes to prepare for law school and worked the internships your dad arranged—even when I had no interest in any of it. I had become a zombie in my own life, letting your mom and dad make every decision along the way. One day I woke up, and I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror, but I didn’t know how to change. I didn’t know what to do.”
I understand that feeling more than he could comprehend.
“I was miserable. I felt empty. There was this gaping hole in my soul, and all I wanted was to fill it. That hole was cold and it was bleak, but I didn’t understand this hole because beyond the loss of my parents, I had it all. So I tried to fill the hole.”
I almost don’t want to know, yet I ask, “With what?”
He sucks in a breath. “Drugs.”
My eyes close and my heart hurts. “I’m sorry.”
“So am I. I got lost. Bad.”
“Mom and Dad were mad at you for the drugs?”
“Yes, and no. They were disappointed, but they were supportive. They were the ones who approached me about my problem. Turns out they’d been monitoring me at school somehow. Your dad flew up toward the end of the semester, told me that I was coming home for summer break and that he was going to pay for rehab. The first few weeks of withdrawal were at a private hospital, and then I had private therapy while I was at home.”
I nibble on my bottom lip as I replay my memories of that summer. Mom and Dad told me Henry had a short summer internship. When Henry was home, he was moody and emotional. Godzilla stomping through Tokyo. “It sounds like Mom and Dad were good to you.”
“They were,” he admits. “I can’t argue that your parents never cared for or loved me, but there are some loves that are smothering. Some loves are selfless on the outside, but completely self-serving on the inside.”
“I don’t understand,” I whisper.
“Taking the drugs was my choice. I know that. No one else is to blame. But when I realized that there was a hole I was trying to fill and that hole was because I was living a life that didn’t belong to me, I went to your dad and told him in order to survive, I had to change. I told him I needed to drop out of college. I tried to explain that I was more like my father and preferred to work with my hands. I told him I wanted to attend a trade school, and he didn’t agree.”
There’s a lump in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut because I don’t want to cry anymore. I’m so sick and tired of crying. “They kicked you out of the house because you quit school?”
“He told me I had no idea how to run my life or what I wanted, and he told me to look at my recent choices as proof. Don’t get me wrong, he had a point, but that therapy worked. I knew I couldn’t make the right choices while living a life I hated. Your dad was angry, I was angry, and I’ll admit the fight got out of control. We both said things we regret. The fight spiraled, and your dad gave me an ultimatum—I return to college, a different college, but a college of his choice—or I leave...so I left.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was ashamed of the drugs. Each and every time you looked at me, I saw love. I lost my mom and dad to death. I lost my second mom and dad to their control. I couldn’t lose you, too. I’m strong, Elle, but I’m not that strong. You’re the only family I have left.”
Unfortunately, I’m feeling more and more like an orphan with every minute that passes.
“I have regrets—the drugs, some of the words I said to your dad, but I don’t regret leaving, taking control of my life and joining the army. I love my life now, and I’m stronger because of it, but I’m scared for you. I’m watching as your parents tighten their grip on you like they did with me. I’m terrified what’s going to happen to you when that hole becomes too big and you feel like it has to be filled or you’re going to die. I never want you to feel as lost as I did.”
He’s too late. That dark abyss he’s talking about—I’m already in free fall.
My cell vibrates in my hand. A quick glance at the screen and my forehead furrows.
Drix: This is Holiday. Call now. It’s Drix. There’s trouble.
Dizziness overtakes my brain. “I’ve got to go.”
“Wait, Elle.”
“I’m serious. I have to go.”
“I know, but listen. I’m here. I may not be reachable sometimes, but I’m always here. Whatever you need, I’ll help. I promise.”
A traveling soldier living on base. There’s only so much he can do, but his offer is a lifeline that I grasp on to. “Thank you. Be safe.”
“Always.” And then he’s gone.
I breathe in deeply to try to push all the dull and sharp aches and pains away, then dial Drix’s number. Holiday answers on the first ring. “Elle?”
“It’s me. What’s going on?”
“I messed up.” She pauses, chokes on a sob, then continues, “Drix is in trouble. He showed me the picture of Jeremy robbing the store, and I got mad and Drix left. He’s gone and left his phone, and nobody can find him. I was so hurt that I confronted Jeremy. It was stupid, but I was mad and I wasn’t thinking and I told him Drix had proof he robbed the store. Jeremy got angry and he asked if anybody else knew and I freaked. I knew I couldn’t drag you into it, so I told him Drix found the proof on his own and Jeremy lost it. He grabbed a gun out of his dresser. He’s going to kill him. I know he’s going to kill him. The boys are out looking for Drix, but we need more help. We need the police, but the boys are scared to call. We don’t know what type of problems that will cause for all of us, specifically Drix and Kellen. The system doesn’t work for people in our neighborhood, but it works for people like you. Please, Elle. We need your help.”
I turn my head away from the phone, and I dry heave.
Please, God, no.