"And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter- they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long." ― Sylvia Plath

++ C H A P T E R | T W E N T Y - F I V E ++

Brent could barely believe his eyes when he watched Natasha walk into school dejected. She was always so happy and carefree, with a smile on her face. He would like to believe that she was upset without him, but he knew better. She was the one that broke it off with him, and he had no right to assume she missed him.

That didn't stop him from hoping.

He was piecing together the dots. Elliott stood at his locker, alone. Another rarity - usually he was with Adrian, but his brother was nowhere in sight. The slump of Elliott's shoulders told Brent something was wrong, but he didn't move to confront the pretty boy. Instead, he watched as Natasha did that for him, wrapping an arm around Elliott's shoulders.

Elliott jerked away, a strange reaction, but nothing Brent wasn't used to. It was clear that Elliott hated to be touched. Even Natasha knew this, but she still tried. She wanted Elliott, and the truth burned Brent all over again, just like it had at the dance when she dumped him with a smile in her eyes, like the action didn't hurt he in the slightest.

It probably hadn't.

He watched as Elliott turned away from Natasha, ignoring her completely as he threw his backpack in his locker and slammed the door. Something was wrong, but even Brent knew better than to pry. Elliott hated that more than anything. It was why Elliott had practically pushed Brent out of his house the night of the dance. It felt like forever ago, but it had only been a few days since then.

Brent wanted to be mad at Elliott, but he couldn't be. Even when he ran into Elliott yesterday in the hallway, he couldn't make himself upset with the pretty boy. Even when he was brushed off for class. And later that afternoon when Elliott ignored him at practice.

Something was wrong, alright. But, Brent knew his friendship with Elliott was basically nonexistent, and there was no way Elliott would spill his problems for Brent to understand. He was always so closed off.

And what surprised Brent even more than Elliott pushing away Natasha was watching him walk right towards him with a frown on his lips. He didn't stop until he was right in front of Brent, with his arms crossed.

"Tell Natasha to knock it off. Please."

Brent wanted to laugh at the situation. Elliott clearly didn't like Natasha the way she liked him. It was comically, and made Brent smile.

"I wish I could, but she's not my girl anymore. She's yours."

Elliott didn't think the joke was funny. "I'm serious, Brent. She's like a lonely dog."

Brent continued to smile. He was glad that Natasha wasn't getting the guy. He was still so upset at how she broke up with him, and he didn't want her to be happy. Not if it wasn't beside him.

"Well, Elliott, she's your problem. Just tell her you don't like her."

"As if it's that easy!" Elliott threw his arms up in exasperation. "I can't handle it anymore! She gives me these looks, like she's begging for some kind of attention."

Brent laughed at that. "Aren't all women?"

Elliott snorted at that comment and leaned against the locker in a normal teenage fashion. Brent was amazed Elliott was even talking to him after yesterday. Something most certainly happened between practice and now, but he didn't dare ask. He was positive Elliott would clam up and ignore him again. For sure.

"Are you excited for another extra long practice?" Brent struggled to keep the conversation alive. He wasn't done talking to Elliott, but he knew Elliott was done. Elliott was always done with conversations, even before they began.

"No. I don't need it. The freshman sure do, though." Another snort, but it made Brent smile. Elliott was strange, but he was slowly growing on him.

"Tell me about it. Is it just me or do they suck more than last year's freshman?"

"Yeah, which is close to impossible. I can tell coach is so fed up. One of these days he's going to pop one of those veins in his neck."

Brent laughed. "I don't know if I want to be there for that or not."

Elliott studied Brent for a moment. He wasn't used to Brent being so nice. His old bully was making a 180 and becoming his friend. He wasn't sure how he felt about this, but a voice inside of his head told him it was normal. Friends were normal.

Love was normal.

Elliott shook his head and smiled at Brent as the bell rang. It was perfect timing, and Elliott scurried off, leaving Brent watching him with a sense of satisfaction. He was breaking down the pretty boy's walls, and soon he would crack the mysterious Elliott. He couldn't wait for the day.

* * *

"Suicides! Now!" Coach yelled, causing the entire underclassman population of the team to groan. Elliott stayed quiet beside Brent as they lined up to do the punishment. Elliott liked the pain of suicides - it reminded him of how much it took to get to the place he was. He didn't become the number one on the team from slacking. It came with rigorous practice and pain.

Elliott was easily the fastest on the team. His small, nimble body came in handy for this, and for once Elliott was proud of his body. It made him faster than others and it made it easier to dodge others on the field.

The suicides didn't phase him, but it did the others. They were so out of shape it was embarrassing, and Elliott hated their lack of passion for the game. He wanted to win the scrimmages next week, and with a weak team, that wouldn't happen.

"You're too fast for your own good." Brent said once he finished, lining up again beside Elliott. He was the second to finish, naturally. It had always been this way, which was what started Brent's hatred for Elliott. He was used to being the best, and when Elliott moved and took his place, that angered him.

Not anymore. Brent saw Elliott's speed as something of pride. He was Elliott's friend now. And being friends with the best kid on the team made his pride swell. Elliott wasn't good at a lot of things, but soccer was one of them.

Once the straggling players finished, coach blew his whistle. "Our next scrimmage is in a few days. I need all of you in tip top shape. That means we'll be having longer practices and more suicides."

After a few groans from the team, coach dismissed them. Elliott was thankful - he was late to work. The excitement of seeing Wes made him feel sick inside - he wasn't supposed to like Wes. He wasn't supposed to like anyone, period.

And after running away from yesterday, Elliott wasn't even sure he should show his face around the shop. He wasn't sure Wes wanted to see him.

"Practice wasn't too bad, huh." Brent made small talk on the way to the locker rooms. Practice was really the only time the two had to socialize. Brent wasn't in many of Elliott's classes, and Elliott had stopped eating lunch with them. He had come out of his shell for a moment, but had retreated at the first sign of being liked.

"For the others, it was." Elliott didn't bother with the shower, as usual, and headed for his bag.

"Yeah, I love seeing the pain in their eyes. Makes me laugh."

Elliott whipped his head up to look at Brent. "Really? Their pain makes you laugh?"

"Doesn't it for you? It's amusing, seeing them so weak and useless. Reminds them who is in charge." Brent flexed an arm for show, a smile playing on his lips.

Elliott didn't answer, because Brent was right - Elliott did like seeing them in pain. But, it was something he pushed away. Seeing others in pain should amuse him. That was Mother's thing - she loved to see others in pain. She loved putting them there even more.

Elliott feared he was becoming her, just like Adrian said, but now that Brent did it as well, he felt better. Maybe it was normal.

"You're already leaving?" Brent asked as he pulled off his shirt, getting ready for the shower.

"I have work. I'm already late." Elliott frowned, looking at his phone. He was really late, just like he had been yesterday. Wes had understood, but Elliott didn't like being late. He was excited to see his face, his smile, his laugh.

Elliott scolded himself - he wasn't allowed happiness.

Before Brent could respond, Elliott rushed out of the locker room. He hated himself for it, but he wanted to see Wes's face. Like a love sick puppy. And he hated himself even more for being so excited. He was practically running to work, a smile etched on his face. He couldn't remember being so happy before, just from one single person who didn't even like him back. But, that didn't matter to Elliott.

He just wanted to see Wes.

The walk home from school wasn't too lengthy, but it was a long enough walk that it made Elliott breathless when he entered the shop. He moved towards the back of the shop to drop his bag off, also looking for Wes. When Wes wasn't in the front or back of the store, Elliott felt panicked, like something had happened. The store was open, but no one was looking over it. Not even Elliott's boss.

Something was going on, and it made fear well up in Elliott's gut. He couldn't even imagine what he would do if something happened to Wes. It made him angry to think he could be hurt somewhere. It made him fill with anxiety.

He walked back out front, barely breathing. The store was empty and eerily quiet. Elliott could remember when mother used to lock him in the basement in complete silence. He would sit there for hours, staring at nothing and listening to nothing. He didn't know whether or not his brothers were safe. He didn't know anything, not until she let him out.

Elliott had the option of leaving, but despite that, being alone in the store reminded him of this. Reminded him of how much he hated to be alone. It was why he hated being sent home early from school.

"Hello? Wes?" Elliott tried calling out. Maybe Wes was in the fields, doing work. He moved back towards the exit of the store, staring out into the acres of land. He didn't see anyone, but that didn't mean Wes wasn't out there.

"Elliott." A deep voice said from behind him, and Elliott felt the hair on the back of his neck stand. He turned to see Mark instead of Wes, and disappointment flooded through him. He could remember last night vividly, and realized that Mark could be here to fire him. After seeing what he put Anna through, Mark may have been upset at him.

"Dad, leave him alone." Wes yelled from the front of the store, coming out back to stop whatever his father was about to do. Elliott was confused, rightfully so, but said nothing as Wes glared up at his father. The two were almost identical, save for the age. Wes was just as tall as his dad, with the same colored hair and eyes. The only differences were their bodies - Mark was clearly a man while Wes was still a boy. Still, the similarities made Elliott take a step back. He'd never compared Wes to his own father, but in this moment, he could see his dad even in Wes.

"Elliott, come on out front. My dad was just trying to pull your leg." He reached for Elliott's arm and tugged him forward, but Mark stopped his son and sent him a warning look, one that made Elliott feel fear deep in his stomach. He wasn't afraid often, but there was something about the look on Mark's face that frightened even him.

"Dad, stop. I know what I'm doing." Wes bit out, continuing the stare down. Elliott couldn't make sense of what they were trying to tell each other, but that was probably the point.

Mark glanced at Elliott for a moment, realizing that they did in fact have company. "Well, if you think you can run the store without a supervisor, then I guess you're ready."

"You're never here. Being without gran will be easy." Wes's voice was shaky, but he tried to prove that he was fine as he pulled Elliott forward and into the empty store front. Mark seemed to disappear, and Elliott could finally breathe again, relieved that Wes was fine.

"Sorry about that. My dad's been acting weird lately. I think it's because he's now dating your foster mom. I think he's worried about pleasing you or something."

"Pleasing me?" Elliott asked in surprise. "Why me?"

Wes fussed around with one of the registers. "Because if you like him, then there's a better chance of him staying with Anna. He's afraid she'll break up with him because you aren't a fan."

Elliott shook his head. "I don't mind your dad, really. I mean, I guess I did yell at him last night, but it wasn't because of him. I swear."

Wes cocked his head at Elliott. "What do you mean you yelled at him last night?"

Elliott suddenly felt uncomfortable. Wes knew nothing about his past. Wes didn't know anything about him, not really. Elliott was afraid if he knew, he would run away from him.

"Well, your dad spent the night. And I freaked out cause our last foster mother dumped us for a boyfriend and I thought Anna was doing the same. So, I yelled at him. I feel bad about it, really. And I don't hate your dad. Please tell him that."

Elliott felt that there was something off about him, but nothing extreme. Nothing that would make him hate the man, even if he did look too much like the father he was forced to kill.

"I will, I guess. How was practice?"

Elliott smiled. "Good. The underclassmen were practically crying by the end of practice. They're so bad it's funny."

Wes smiled along, but even Elliott could tell something was wrong. He didn't pry, though. He knew how much he hated when people pried into his own life.

"Well, it sounds a whole lot more interesting than my day. I practically worked all day. I was taking a break when you got here, I guess. I heard you call my name. Kinda reminded me I have to look over the shop." Wes cracked a smile, leaning against the counter lazily.

"Well, that sounds better than school." Elliott grumbled, remembering how he had slept through math and earned a stern talking to after class. The memory made him wince, but he was thankful he didn't get detention.

"Nah. I wish I'd stayed in school. Or at least pursued my education. Maybe I would be doing something else with my life instead of slaving on the farm."

"Listen, about yesterday-"

Wes waved his words away. "Don't worry about it. Just don't make a habit of leaving, okay? It doesn't exactly scream good employee. I would hate for you to get fired."

Elliott ducked his head, a blush fresh on his cheeks. "Of course."

Elliott watched as Wes grabbed a bottled water and took a sip, wishing with all his might that maybe Wes liked him back. It was a stupid wish - Elliott had eyes. He knew Wes liked Natasha. He could always dream, though. Even though he knew he shouldn't even be thinking of these things. It was wrong, messed up, and he didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve love.

"You don't deserve love, Elliott! Not like that! You deserve this love!" She brought the whip down hard on his back, loving the sounds of his cries. She whipped him again and again. "Each whip represents how many times you've told anyone you've loved them. I've been keeping count in this little book. Do you want to know how many times you've said it this year?"

Elliott whimpered, and mother continued. "Over 1000 times, Elliott. Pathetic." She whipped him ten more times before pausing. "I'm almost half way done, Elliott. Once I'm done with you, you'll never say that filthy word again. Never!"

Elliott could only cry as he felt the whip come down against his skin again, and again, and again. He lost count. He lost feeling. He lost love.

* * *

"Lunch was lovely," Mark said as he crossed the threshold of Anna's house. A smile was lit up on her face as she unzipped her boots to leave by the door. She placed her car keys in a bowl beside the door, and smiled up at her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Anna didn't think she'd ever get used to calling Mark her boyfriend. Or even calling anyone that, for that matter.

"It was my treat. The kids should be home by now, so we can sit in the living room if you'd like. I don't hear the television, meaning Mat isn't in there."

Mark wrapped an arm around Anna to kiss her head. "That sounds great. But first, I'm in need of the loo. Er, the bathroom."

Anna laughed at Mark's slip of the tongue. "Okay, but only if you're man enough to handle the little boys room on your own." She pinched his cheeks, and laughed when Mark's face went red with embarrassment.

"You will pay for that, love." He smiled fondly at her before moving towards the bathroom. Anna decided to clean a little in the living room, throwing magazines off of the couch and grabbing a throw blanket from the cabinet.

Mark wasn't gone long. "Is there another bathroom? It seems like Mat is in that one."

Anna smiled. "Of course. I'll show you - it's upstairs." She grabbed Mark's hand and led him up her staircase. She'd been over his house before, and her own seemed small in comparison, but Mark seemed to prefer her house than his own. Even Anna had noticed the lack of personality in his home. There were no photos, no decor, nothing that really screamed home. Anna wondered why, but never asked. Perhaps that was why he liked her house so much - it was a home.

"I don't reckon I've been upstairs before," Mark noted as they reached the top. He gave Anna's hand a squeeze, and she flushed.

"Well, now you have. It's right through here." Anna pushed the bathroom door open, and then paused. Laying on the floor was a box of what looked like tampons, but Anna instantly knew they weren't hers. Not only were they a different brand, but Anna never left any of her feminine products in this bathroom. She had her own that was connected to her bedroom.

She bent down to grab the empty box, and she peered in the trashcan. She never used this bathroom, period, so she was shocked to find the trashcan filled with used tampons. She was so confused and concerned.

She straightened up and turned back towards Mark. "Is everything okay? You look pale."

Anna wordlessly held up the empty box, and Mark laughed. "Anna, love, I was married once. I know what tampons are. You don't need to be embarrassed."

She shook her head. "No, these aren't mine. I don't know whose they are."

Mark just gave her a strange look. "Are you sure? Who else would have those when you live with a bunch of boys?"

"They aren't my brand." Anna was still confused.

"Are you sure you didn't just slip and buy these ones instead?" Mark smiled at his flustered girlfriend.

Anna shook her head. "We girls take this stuff seriously. We don't fool around when it comes to tampons. These are the cheapest brand I've ever seen. They're CVS brand. I can't even imagine how bad these must be. I would never slip and buy these."

Anna brushed past Mark and knocked on Elliott's door before entering. She took in the sight of Elliott frantically looking for something as he pulled the blanket off of his bed. He turned when he sensed Anna's presence, and froze, looking at her.

Anna opened her mouth, then pulled in a gasp. In Elliott's right hand was a pair of his boxers, but they were stained red. And suddenly, the dots connected in her mind. The empty box of tampons, the used ones, the blood, and the frantic searching.

"Elliott, you're a girl?"

* * *

So.

the cats out of the bag.

Elliott is in fact a girl.

Props to those who guessed it right cause some of you did. So yahoo, you guys rock for guessing the plot xD

Originally, Adrian and Mat were supposed to be girls too (they were all going to be) but halfway through writing, I changed my mind. But, they used to have girl names!! Adrian was Adrianna and Mat was Matilda (which is why he only has one t in matt)

WEIRD RIGHT???

when I first got the idea for this story, it was just about a girl who was forced to be a guy. that was the main idea. from there, everything else added on. I added on an abusive mother/daughter relationship. I gave Elle brothers. I still can't believe we've reached this point! I've been WAITING and WAITING for this moment to arrive.

Comment below how you feel about Elliott being a girl!

Love you all, and happy friday!! 

xoxo

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