FREE STORY WITH EXCLUSIVE CONTENT. This is *not* a Paid Story.
Eighteen-year-old hockey prodigy Elliot Wexler has three goals for senior year. One: somehow graduate with a 3.5 GPA. Two: hide his bipolar disorder from his peers. And three: make it in...
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I WAKE UP TO Alecia's hair dryer blowing.
Their new place is nicer than the last, and I like it. It's an actual apartment, sixth floor, beige walls. And the couch is the same, so it's like a piece of home from their old place has been brought here.
Still, I barely slept. Yesterday feels like it wasn't even real; some parts dreamlike, others nightmarish.
Colt was arrested. That's the best dream I've ever had.
But then there's Elliot.
He screamedat me. He threw a vase at me, smashed it off the ceramic tile. It was terrifying, because he was no longer himself; Elliot transformed into Colt, into my father, into every other man who has ever tried to hurt me. I love him, but for a moment, he'd embodied everything that I hate and fear.
Violence.
So I ran away.
I pull the quilt off my body and sit up, guilt making my stomach unsettled. He'd begged me not to go, but...
You scared me, Elliot. I couldn't stay there. Not when you were like that.
All night, I paced this living room, replaying the scene in my head. Yes, Elliot scared me, but that vase landed nowhere near my feet. He wasn't trying to hurt me, he just... snapped. That isn't okay either. But I know that he's prone to emotional outbursts, and I know he didn't mean to call me a bitch or say any of those horrible things. I don't hate him for what he said, and I'm trying to understand, I really am.
What I do understand is that he loves me. For the first time in my miserable life, somebody good actually loves me. It was selfish to leave like that. He needed me. I should have called his parents, or the police, or someone. Instead, I ran here like a coward.
The early afternoon sun shines through the windows, so Elliot must be awake by now. Biting my lip, I send him a text.
Hey, I'm sorry for running out like that. Are you okay? Can we meet?
When he doesn't answer after ten minutes, I send another.
Please don't ignore me. Are you sleeping?
I have the insatiable urge to write I love you, but I can't tell him I love him via text. It has to be in person. Because I do love him, more than anything. And even though I'm a selfish bitch, he loves me too. I've put him through hell, haven't I? He needed me and I left him.
Over and over again, I left him.
Maybe it's too late now. Maybe he doesn't want to talk anymore. Minutes pass, and he still doesn't answer.
I don't know if I can ever forgive myself for Charlotte, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to recover my relationship with Elliot's parents. But maybe, if we give it one more chance, we can take it slow. It's not like I have to move back in with his family; I can stay here and get a job, and Elliot and I could just... date. Maybe go to the movies, be a normal couple for a while. That sounds nice.
