Why the Straight One? | Book 1 | bxb

Entry 51 - Of Elliot

A soft murmur of voices drifted through the open balcony doors. I think it was that that woke me. Late afternoon sunlight streamed in from the open balcony doors. I started in surprise at the sound of someone moving, and noticed Elliot sitting on a chair next to my bed. His head was bent, buried in his hands that rested on the mattress.

"Elliot?" We had just come home yesterday, the trip being extremely exhausting, all I had done was sleep since we arrived. I still couldn't believe I was actually seeing Elliot.

"Alex, did I wake you?" His voice was scratchy, probably from lack of use. I wondered how long he had been sitting there waiting for me to wake up.

"No, dear. I've slept plenty. It must have just been time for me to wake up." He inclined his head towards me at the term of endearment.

"I've been waiting for you." I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes for the brief moment that he looked up at me. All I saw was a tiredness decades too old for him, and pain so extreme, it poured out of his eyes from his very soul.

He was thinner than when I first met him. At least fifteen pounds, probably more, and it was most noticeable in his face. Pale, too pale, the kind that comes from exhaustion and not from lack of sun. His lack of color only made the dark circles beneath his eyes stand out more prominently. I wondered when he last got a full night of sleep.

"How are you?" I asked as gently as I could. Somehow I felt I could break him with just my voice.

"They said you...you almost died." He was looking at my stomach now, trying to see the injury that almost taken my life.

"It was a close shave, but I made it. I think it's mostly because of Thomas that I'm here today." He glanced up at me, then back down at my stomach.

"And you'll be okay? You're recovering?" I lifted up my shirt so he could see the clean white bandages that wrapped around my stomach.

"See? Apparently the scar tissue is doing its job. It's hasn't bled in a few days. I'm definitely recovering."

I smiled at him, but he kept looking down at my stomach. He reached out with his hand, close enough to touch where the knife had gone in, but then pulled back quickly, his hand clenching into a fist and dropping to his side.

"I'm sorry, Alex." His voice was low and bitter, his profile hard and set as he continued to stare down at my injury.

I let my shirt drop back down, looking up at him in concern.

"Sorry? Sorry for what?" What did he have to apologize for?

"For this." He gestured towards my stomach, every line of his body slumping in defeat.

"Like I told Thomas, it's not your fault unless you did this or told the person to do it to me. So, unless you planned my murder, I won't except your apology." I didn't know what state his mind was in, but I knew I had to keep things light. Especially if he was blaming himself for things like this.

The murmur of voices had gotten slightly louder, and I could make out one of them as being Thomas'. Just the sound of his voice was enough to make me smile.

"They're talking about me." Elliot shot an angry glance towards the balcony doors.

"Who is?"

"All of them. Thomas, Raymond, the doctors...Alan. They are all talking about all the shit they think I've been through. Talking about how fucked up I am."

His sudden change in tone, and his language surprised me, and I think he could tell.

"They are just trying to figure out the best way to deal with me. Probably want me off their hands as soon as they can."