Crazy but Sweet, Sweet but Crazy

42: to be a leverage

Two days ago

At slightly past 8PM, Landon looked at the empty cans of beer on the coffee table, sitting on the couch of his family home.

Then, with heavy lids, he turned his gaze upstairs.

His hand and forehead having been tended to by their family physician, Elliot sat in front of Richard's room, unmoving.

He'd been sitting like that for the past thirty plus hours, he'd been there.

Food trays, documents and drinks had been taken in and out of Richard's room, but from what Landon had seen, none had been offered to Elliot.

And the moron didn't look like he planned on going to the dining room anytime soon.

One day ago

Richard had gone out of the house and returned a few times.

And Elliot, that fucking, goddamn moron, got up every time Richard returned, and pleaded, apologized.

Hearing those words of apology, sitting in the living room couch with the growing number of cans on the coffee table, Landon puked for the first time in a long time.

Even downing rum and whisky hadn't made him throw up his guts like that.

"I'm sorry. Please, please dad. I was wrong. You took me in, you gave me a life. But I was arrogant. I dared to go against you. Please, I'll do anything you tell me to."

Elliot had once said, his voice trembling and streaked with sobs, as Richard stood in the dining room, sipping on his glass of wine.

Lying down on the couch and looking up at the ceiling, Landon felt something snap inside him.

At that one word. 'Dared'.

What was he, a fucking dog? A servant?

And at 6pm, through the haze of a fresh can he'd just downed, Landon saw Gerald going up to Elliot, who was sitting in front of Richard's closed door.

At a single sentence the man uttered, Landon saw the boy nod, then nod again.

He then stood, and followed Gerald to one of the dressing rooms downstairs.

~ * ~

The next time Landon was awakened to the sound of a door, Elliot was emerging from a dressing room.

Freshly showered, he was dressed in a crisp blue shirt and ironed pair of black pants, his hair neatly combed down.

Just the way Richard had always gotten the boy to dress, through the mouthpiece of Gerald.

Given the order of what to wear from head to toe like some doll, Elliot for the first time Landon had seen him in the past three days, looked the most alive.

There was something like life in his eyes.

Following Gerald, with his gaze lowered to the floor like a sinner, Elliot walked up the stairs. With a knock, Gerald opened Richard's door, and Elliot entered.

The door closed behind the two, and Landon laid his head back down on the sofa, looking blankly up at the ceiling.

The next time Landon opened his eyes, Elliot wasn't around at his usual spot in front of Richard's room.

"Where's Elliot?" Landon demanded, as Gerald started to sweep the empty beer cans into a trash bag.

"He's in his room." Gerald wasn't giving anything away. Dispassionately, he tied up the trash bag filled with cans.