"The scariest thought in the world is that someday I'll wake up and realize I've been sleepwalking through my life: underappreciating the people I love, making the same hurtful mistakes over and over, a slave to neuroses, fear, and the habitual." -- George Saunders
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His voice trembled with fear as he pushed himself further into the wall. "Mother, please. Think about this."
His mother was fastly approaching, an end goal in sight. She wasn't about to give up everything she'd been working towards. She wasn't about to let her baby boy die so easily. She could almost taste the satisfaction in parading around the perfect son, with soon-to-come little brothers. Everyone would look at their family and realize how perfect everything was. She was sure of it.
"But my darling little Elliott, everything is fine. Everything will happen for a reason." She snipped the scissors in the air, the sound of the swoosh echoing in the basement. "Everything, I promise, will work out just fine.
Elliott awoke with a start, his breathing labored and his forehead coated in sweat. It was only a nightmare, but Elliott was always deeply affected by them. He could never forget his childhood, no matter how much he ran from it.
The smell of breakfast was assaulting his senses, and his stomach growled in protest. He'd skipped dinner last night in hopes of maintaining his look, but it was obvious that only drinking protein shakes wasn't enough.
After pulling on a shirt, Elliott padded downstairs and peeked into the kitchen. His brothers Adrian and Mat were already at the bar, eating the pancakes and bacon. The two of them seemed to have no problems with eating the fatty foods. Then again, he knew exactly what the fat could do in this situation. It would help hide.
"Elliott, this food is amazing! Mom is so good at cooking!" Mat exclaimed, waving his fork full of pancake in the air.
"Mom?" Elliott questioned, his voice thick with emotion. It brought back too many memories, too many horror stories.
"You know what I mean." Mat said sheepishly. Elliott knew he was too hard on him - Mat was only twelve. He deserved a mother who would treat him right, and their foster mother Anna was a good woman. However, Elliott could never quite say the word mother without having panic attacks. Adrian seemed to be the same, but Mat was young and forgiving.
"There you are!" Anna sang from behind Elliott. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed him into a seat, swinging around the bar to fix him a plate. "You've been scarce lately. You didn't even eat my meatloaf last night."
Anna loved to please her three new sons, but that wasn't always easy. She had to deal with two moody teens and a little boy who had attachment issues, but that didn't mean she didn't love them. She had never been so in love in her life, but she knew there was more to the boys than she could ever realize.
"Sorry," Elliott ducked his head. "I've been working out lately. Soccer tryouts are starting soon."
Anna loved her eldest foster child, but she could never understand him. He was always constantly concerned about his appearance, and wouldn't let her touch him. She did have rare moments, like when she had pushed him down, but she could never hug him, or any of them for that matter. They all hated being touched.
"You'll do fine. You're great at soccer." Elliott could only nod his head and hope that he would make the cut this year. He'd always been on the shorter and lankier side, and that got him in trouble most of the time. He tried and tried to build muscle, but he wasn't like the others. He was different.
"Well, I for one hate working out!" Mat smiled at his brothers. He was trying to lift the mood, but he knew Elliott was a goner. Adrian was easier to cheer up, but he was also an obstacle that Mat had to get past. He knew his brother's loved him, and knew why they were so distant, but Mat felt tired of pretending. Mat felt tired of hiding everything and not talking to his siblings. He had so many questions. So many whys. But, his brothers never answered them, but instead forced him to be quiet.
"Mother is never gone. Remember that."
Mat did, but that didn't mean he wanted to continue hiding.
"This was great, but we're going to be late." Elliott announced, jumping from the stool. He hated being cooped up in this house. He knew Anna wouldn't stay quiet for long, and he knew she had questions. Every foster family did - it was always the same. However, their secret had never escaped, and it never would. The three brother's would take it to the grave if they had to.
Elliott entered the high school with his soccer bag in his hand and his backpack on his back. First day of tryouts was always stressful, especially the locker room. He always hated being ridiculed.
After dropping his soccer bag at his locker in the boys locker room, he walked slowly to his first class, dreading every moment of being locked away in this school. Every minute in this building was a minute his secret could be exposed.
He bumped hard into a girl, and he caught her, worried he'd hurt her in some way. It was Natasha, a popular girl with flaming orange hair and blue eyes. Her face was covered in freckles almost so intensely that it was hard to focus on anything else, but her wide eyes always seemed to draw him in.
"Elliott, you're in a rush this morning. You have to be more careful." She stepped out of his arms and smiled at him, showing him that it was okay. "It's soccer tryouts, right? You must be so excited."
Excitement was the last thing Elliott was feeling. "Yeah, sure."
"Oh, come on. Lighten up a bit, why don't you. Did you do the science lab?"
Elliott could barely focus on her words as he watched Brent walking towards him, a scowl prominent on his face. He would not be happy that Elliott was talking with his girlfriend. He would not be happy at all.
"Yeah, I finished last week. If you don't mind-" Before Elliott could escape, Brent joined the conversation and grabbed Elliott by the back of the neck. "What are you doing with my girl, pretty boy?"
"Brent, put him down." Natasha ordered, crossing her arms across her chest in dominance. "And quit calling him that. It's rude."
Brent let go of Elliott almost immediately, but not before sending him a deathly look. "Babe, since when do you defend bottom feeders?"
Elliott's ego was already bruised, and this comment did nothing to displease him. Elliott preferred being a bottom feeder, where no one would notice him. It gave him cover.
"I like Elliott, thank you very much. We're friends. Now, apologize."
Elliott was amazed Natasha was sticking up for him, but he said nothing as Brent muttered a flimsy sorry. Then, without hesitation, he spun on his heels and marched away, dragging Natasha along with him.
Elliott, in that very moment, realized that perhaps having friends could be an option. Especially when cute little Natasha was defending him. But, as mother had dutifully taught him, trusting others was risky business, and often times blew up in his face. It had when he trusted his father. It had when he trusted his mother.
Trust was frightening. Trust was something Elliott didn't think he possessed.
After sitting down in his seat in class, Elliott couldn't help his mind from wandering to Natasha, and how friendly she'd been. She could be a friend - a real friend. The thought made him giddy with excitement. So much that his mind wandered all class long, refusing to be still. And he actually didn't mind the restlessness this time.
* * *
"This isn't tryouts for sissies." The first tryout started. Elliott was used to Coach Jank - this was his second year playing soccer. He looked around at frightened freshmen, the ones who were pretending to be strong. He could pick them out immediately, because he too was one of those freshmen. The one shaking in his shorts with a pale, worried face.
If Elliott wasn't so talented, he probably wouldn't have made the team.
"Let's get some drills going. Chop chop."
Elliott pushed to a standing position like the others and stretched for a moment, silently assessing the others. His teammates, the ones he'd grown up beside, were all confident. That came with being seniors, and also came with the prospect of becoming captain.
Elliott knew that Brent had this in the bag. He'd always been captain material, and now that he had the chance, Brent would show no mercy to the other teammates. Elliott was frightened by this, due to the fact that Brent hated his guts. The only thing that kept Elliott from quitting was the fact that he had raw talent, and his brothers were depending on him. Not to be a soccer star, but to fit in. To be the role model they needed.
"You cold or somethin'?" One of the underclassmen asked Elliott, giving his sweatpants a strange look, one Elliott ignored. Everyone always asked the same question: why do you always wear pants during practice? It was just something he was accustomed to.
"Hey, I'm talking to you pretty boy. Don't pretend you can't hear me."
Elliott just rolled his eyes and passed the ball around. If he didn't react, it would stop. It always worked in the past.
"Listen, Bruer. Pretty boy here is years ahead of you when it comes to soccer skills. Leave him alone." It was the first time Brent had ever protected him, and Elliott didn't know how to feel about the transaction. Brent never did things for people without expecting something in return, and Elliott had nothing to offer.
"I'm just askin' him about his pants. That's all." The underclassman raised his hands in mock surrender, but it was clear he felt fear and intimidation coming from the senior. Most people feared Brent - it was nothing new nor surprising.
"There is nothing that says players can't wear pants. Now, go do more drills and maybe you'll gain a little of pretty boy's talent."
The underclassman scurried away, moving towards his friends. Elliott didn't know how to react - Brent had bullied him since he'd moved here. It made no sense that he would suddenly show respect for him. Especially since he'd been holding Elliott against the lockers not even 24 hours ago.
"I didn't do this for you. I did this for Natasha since she thinks you two are friends. Got it, pretty boy?" Brent sneared, his eyes narrowed in disgust towards his fellow classmate. Brent had never particularly liked Elliott - there was just something about him that screamed wrong, but Brent couldn't put a finger on it. When Elliott moved here last year, Brent immediately knew he would be competition. The kid was talented at soccer. The fear of losing the captain spot had driven Brent to be the bully he was, hoping he could scare Elliott from the field, but that was proving impossible.
Elliott hastily nodded, feeling the fear creep down his spine. He was feeling lucky that Brent was giving him a break, even if he didn't deserve it. Whatever kept the bullying at bay was alright with Elliott. That was for sure.
For the rest of practice, Elliott kept his head down and got in the zone, letting his body take over. For whatever reason, Elliott had always been good at the sport, and while he didn't particularly enjoy it, he had to maintain a sense of normal. His brothers depended on him.
It wasn't long before the coach blew the last whistle shrill and practice was over, finally. It was still pretty hot out from the lingering days of summer, and Elliott was dying in his sweatpants, but he pushed on. There was no way Elliott would ever show off his legs, not after the last time someone saw them.
It wasn't his fault he was covered in gruesome scars.
"Elliott, Elliott. We need to talk." Adrian met Elliott at the front of the school, his eyes wide and frantic. Everything about Adrian spelt anxious, and Elliott hated it. He hated he couldn't protect his brothers from the hardships of life.
"About? I'm dead tired." Elliott was dreading the walk home, like always. His knees felt wobbly and his face felt hot. He knew he needed rest, but he kept pushing on. He was always pushing on.
Adrian grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back. "I'm serious. Mother is back."339Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyQetea8nm5
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