The Mute [Elliot Alderson]

19 | h u r t

sorry it took so long to update, for some reason i just couldn't make myself sit down and write for a while. i apologize.

BES

For some reason, I cannot come up with the words to explain how shocking all of this is to me. How far my life has come, how things have gotten. I'm not even sure if it's for the better, either.

My brother showed obvious concern because he was not aware of the recent panic attack in front of the Allsafe building, and my mother is practically considering moving me back home.

But I have work to do.

This is the farthest I've come in actually getting somewhere with this thing with my father, and that makes me proud. Although I'm having panic attacks now and again, I can take that risk - especially for that the pay off will be in the end.

My mother, brother and grandparents will all have closure and a murderer will be behind bars. I'm hoping that Elliot can dig up enough dirt to help me put him away for a life time.

I thought back to Elliot, and wondered what he was doing right now.

My mother drove me back to my apartment and decided to spend the night with me, and I sent a text to my friend Mary letting her know I'd probably need her to come over ASAP.

Gideon gave me a week off work, which I feel like only made matters worse in my case because who knows if I'll ever want to go back.

I still don't understand why they did what they did, even if it was a prank. Why me? I thought I had been pretty under the radar since I've been there. Apparently not.

I haven't spoken to Angela or Ollie in a while, which doesn't exactly seem strange because I know we aren't close or anything, but I kind of am craving some kind of interaction with any human but my family and Elliot, especially since things with him and I are so rocky right now.

We went from making out on his couch to me blackmailing him so fast that I almost caught whiplash.

Obviously blackmail is wrong. But isn't that what he does to other people? Why else would he need that much information on one person, other than to hold it against them some how?

Something tells me from the amount of CD's that he had in the case, there's hundreds of people whom he must believe deserve jail time, and I can honestly say that they all probably deserve it - but then again, Elliot isn't God.

I completely understand that criminals deserve to be punished, obviously that's why we have a judicial system. But that's exactly it. Let the judicial system handle it. You cannot be the judge, jury and executioner all in one. It's not up for him to decide.

But then again, I'm a hypocrite because now I'm using him for my own purposes. It's embarrassing, and I don't want to admit that it feels wrong but it undeniably does.

Regardless, I'm patiently waiting for his phone call to let me know when the job has been done. I could easily walk over to his apartment, but I don't want to have to see his face until absolutely necessary. The guilt and shame of stooping this low would be evident on my face, and I'd rather avoid that.

My mother goes on and on about random things that I'm not really paying attention to, and that continues until 5 o'clock PM.

Right on the dot, I receive a text message from Elliot. I don't specifically remember exchanging numbers with him, but I decide not to dwell on that for now.

elliot :
it's done.

I look up at Penelope, and decide to give her a lame excuse.

"Gotta go check the mail. Be right back." She nods in response, just enough to acknowledge me and then looks back to her crossword puzzle.

I slip out my door, and knock on Elliot's.

The door swings open, and the CD is immediately placed into my hands - quicker than I could type 'hello.'

"You still haven't told me why you need this," he remarks, and sidesteps to allow me into his apartment.

"I probably won't, either."

"Don't.. don't do anything.. stupid." He mumbles, and I nod.

• • •

I shove the tape recorder into my back pocket, satisfied with the placement of it.

Thankfully, it didn't cost too much at the local electronic store. The gun was what really broke my bank.

I turned down the dark alleyway, remembering to read every street sign on my way to the destination.

After maybe a mile or so of walking, I'm finally here.

I see a man leaning against an old vehicle and smoking a cigarette. This has to be him.

As I get closer, I'm getting more and more anxious for this plan, and I'm kind of terrified on how it might turn out. Things could go bad very quickly, and I don't think I'd even have a chance to call for help.

My black Converse carry me over to him, and I stop about a foot in front of him.

"So, what's the deal?" He questions, then exhales smoke out of his nose.

I look around, then back at him.

"I heard you can give me what I want." I mumble after practicing it a million times in my head, and he grins.

My voice doesn't sound the same as when I was a child, and I can barely even recognize myself, so how could he?

"Depends on what you want."

"Apparently you have the best product in New York City, and I want a piece of it." His smile only grows bigger at the compliment, and my insides turn.

"Yeah, I've been known for that. So, how much are we talking here?" He questions and drops his cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot.

"How much can you get me?" I ask, then take a look around again.

My fears have come alive, and I'm trying so hard to keep myself in this reality and not let my mind wander but it's becoming harder and harder the longer I continue to speak.

It feels like I took a dusty record off the shelf, and instead of cleaning it off I threw it right on the player and gave it a go.

I can't tell if it's an emotional pain or a physical one at this point.

But the pain I feel now is nothing compared what happens next.

——

A/N : This chapter is short. It's also really not where I wanted it to go.. But I had already typed out this entire thing and couldn't bring myself to re-write it. Things will begin to make sense again soon, thank you..