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"Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart." ― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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

"Love. You don't need love, my dear Elliott. You only need me." Mother scoffed as she ran her fingers through Elliott's hair.

"I don't understand why they left." Elliott shook with fear. Fear of Mother. Fear for never being loved. Never being wanted.

"They don't need you or me, Elliott. We only need each other. Now, come. I have a gift for you."

Elliott followed Mother obediently into the basement. Into the torcher chamber. Usually, he never followed willingly, but the sting of being abandoned was making him numb. He wanted loved. Even if that came from Mother's beatings.

Instead of strapping him to the chair, there was someone already there. It was a lifesized toy doll. Elliott was confused, so confused, but Mother didn't answer his questions. Instead, she placed one of her favorite whips in his tiny, shaking hands.

"This is how we love, darling. Pain is how we love."

Elliott was still confused. He wanted to know why she wasn't hurting him. He wanted to know why she had a toy doll in the seat and her favorite whip was in his hands.

"Well, I'm not waiting all day. Whip the toy, Elliott."

Elliott didn't understand why. Didn't really want to know why, either. He pretty much already knew the answer, and was so afraid to say no so he whipped the doll. It was just a doll, anyway. Whip after whip, Elliott let out his anger and frustration of being abandoned and whipped harder. He almost wished the doll could talk so he could know if he was doing it right. He at least wanted the satisfaction of his pain being realized.

"Okay, Elliott darling. Enough of that. You're a natural." Mother beamed. "Next time, there will be different subjects. Maybe even real ones, if you're behaved."

Elliott handed back the whip, dazed She hadn't hurt him. She hadn't touched him. He wasn't sure what that meant. Maybe it meant she did love him.

Maybe she was right. Maybe this was how love was. Painful. Intense. Demanding to be felt, like a whip to the skin.

Elliott didn't know. But, he wanted to be loved. And he wanted to love. Even if that meant holding a whip in his hands.

Elliott wanted to skip school, but he knew better. So, he forced himself to walk to school and sit through class. He forced himself not to cry, not to show any emotion, even though he wanted to.

Adrian was right. No one would ever want to love him. Only Mother. Elliott could feel his heart beating wildly as he remembered holding a whip, swinging it down on the dolls. Eventually on pets. Mother had promised a real person for a subject, but it never got that far.

Elliott wasn't sure if he had been glad or disappointed.

Mother was right. Love was pain. Sure, Elliott knew what Mother had done to them was wrong and dangerous, but being away from her made him long for the pain. To be noticed. To be loved.

Elliott shook his head. This was crazy - he wasn't supposed to miss mother, but he did. Adrian was right. He was just like Mother.

"Elliott, are you alright?" Natasha poked a finger against his forehead, and Elliott reeled back, giving her a deer in the headlights look. He was annoyed with her, even though she'd been nothing but nice. It was how she acted around Wes that bothered him. With her whiny voice and those batted eyelashes. It drove him mad.

"I'm fine." He waved the red head off. She looked dejected, like he'd ruined her day, but Elliott couldn't care less. His life was a mess, one he couldn't pick up the pieces to. He could practically hear the demons in his head laughing at him, poking fun at the damaged boy they'd created. That, and the skeletons in his closet were begging to be set free.

They could never be set free. They would ruin everything.

"You look pale. Seriously. You should see the nurse, maybe." Elliott spared a glance at Natasha, realizing she did look concerned for him. It wasn't an act, but Elliott almost wished it was. The way her eyes dug deep into his soul, trying to figure out his horrific past made his stomach churn. No one could know.

"No nurse. I have to get to class." Lately that was his only excuse. Elliott didn't particularly even care about school. He was mostly there for show - to prove to his brothers that he was fine. Which was a moot point, now that his brothers hated his guts. Adrian made it clear this morning that he didn't want Elliott near Mat. He was too unstable. A bad influence for the young boy.

Since when had Elliott shifted from hero to villain? He wasn't sure, but remembering the look on Mat's face last night made his stomach clench with the thought that he was no longer the hero. Mat had been frightened of him, because he lost an ounce of control.

"Well, if you say so," Natasha said, her tone suggesting that she didn't believe Elliott was fine. She wanted to help, but didn't know how. Elliott was twisted in so many different ways that he was becoming an impossible knot to untie. Whoever the real Elliott was, he was trapped and may never come out.

Elliott stalked to class, trying to clear his mind of Natasha and his brothers. The more he lingered on the pain, the worst it got. He had the urge to beat Adrian for keeping Mat from him, but he knew better. He knew better than to become the person his mother was.

That didn't mean the urges weren't there. The demons in his head cheered him on, pushing the urges to the front of his mind, always. Elliott was damaged, and there was nothing that could save him. He was trying so damn hard to make things better. To escape the past, like his brothers had so easily.

Elliott wanted to know how. He struggled with the fact that they were living their carefree lives, not haunted at all while Elliott could barely sleep without the nightmares returning. They didn't have to deal with anything.

It wasn't easy being in school, either. Teachers constantly hounded on him. It was his senior year, and everyone told him he should be looking into schools. Looking into his own future. But, there wasn't time for that. There was only time for protecting.

"Elliott, read the passage, please."

Elliott said nothing. He knew his teacher knew he didn't read. He knew everyone knew this, so why was the teacher picking on him? It was bad enough he had to deal with his brothers, and now this? This punishment?

The teacher was relentless. "Elliott, read the passage. Don't keep us waiting. I will send you to the Principal, young man."

The principal didn't scare Elliott. What scared Elliott was being sent home to an empty house, where he was vulnerable. What scared Elliott was how Mother could be on any street corner, just waiting. It was the fear that pulled the words from his lips, in a hauntingly beautiful way that silenced the entire room.

"I used to analyze myself down to the last thread, used to compare myself with others, recalled all the smallest glances, smiles and words of those to whom I'd tried to be frank, interpreted everything in a bad light, laughed viciously at my attempts 'to be like the rest' –and suddenly, in the midst of my laughing, I'd give way to sadness, fall into ludicrous despondency and once again start the whole process all over again – in short, I went round and round like a squirrel on a wheel."

When Elliott finished, the students just stared at him, as if they were in a trance. Even his teacher was frozen in time, wondering how Elliott had just managed to read a paragraph from Crime and Punishment and make it sound like poetry that touched the soul and left its mark.

Elliott almost dared the teacher to make him continue. When he read, he had control, but even he knew that was dangerous. The allure from his reading had to do with the rarity of it - Elliott rarely talked to others, nevermind read aloud, or read at all for that matter. Most people in the school couldn't conjure up a voice for Elliott, but now it was different.

It didn't even take until lunch for the entire school to talk about it, like talking in class was a huge deal. It left Elliott in a foul mood. He didn't like the attention, and while he didn't want to admit it, he hated the fact that those words he had read touched him. He felt like he could relate, and that frightened him. The will to read more. He wanted to take that book in his hands and swallow up the words, eager to read and relate more. It was a dangerous line he was walking. But, he didn't want to back away.

He wanted to play with fire. He wanted to taste the pain on his lips and enjoy it. He wanted to break all of the rules and create his own, create a little world just for himself where no one could torture him.

His hand trembled as he went back to the empty classroom and picked up the book. It was worn from years of use, and the title was almost completely worn away, but it was clear. Crime and Punishment. His type of book, judging by the title. It hit too close to home, the punishment part, and the crime as well when concerning his mother.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew mother could find out, and from that thought he could almost taste the blood in his mouth from the slap of her hand. But, he wanted this. Just reading that little passage had started the fire in his brain. It yearned for books, like it once had when he was a child.

He couldn't stop shaking as he lowered himself to a desk and opened the cover. The words on the page called to him, and for a moment he knew he could back out. He could run away from the edge of the cliff, but he didn't want to. He wanted to dive right off of the cliff and let the wind take him. And that is exactly what he did.

* * *

"So you're reading in class, now?" Adrian asked the moment Elliott stepped through the front door. The cold tone of his voice made Elliott narrow his eyes in suspicion. Something was wrong.

"None of your business." Elliott brushed past his brother and headed towards his room with the intent of being alone, but Adrian had other plans. He yanked on his arm to turn him around.

"It is my business. What has gotten into you, Elliott? You're different."

Elliott laughed dryly. "Different? You don't say."

Adrian shook his head, clearly not enjoying Elliott's tone of voice."Not in that way. You're changing."

Elliott didn't have time for this conversation. He yanked his arm free and sent a glare at Adrian. "Leave me alone, Adrian. You don't understand a thing."

'Adrian laughed in his face. "I don't? Oh really? Cause the last time I checked, you were wasting away behind mother's rules. She's not here, Elliott. She's not coming back."

"She is, and we're in danger! Why do you think I'm working? It isn't to waste my time! I'm saving so we can escape and be free, Adrian. I'm the only one doing anything for this family. I got us out of her clutches, and I'm trying to get us further. Away from mother and away from Anna."

Adrian shook his head. "Anna is the best thing for us now. Not you. I'm sorry, Elliott, but you have to accept that Mat needs a mother, and Anna is the closest thing. He sees her as a mother, Elliott. You can't tear him away again. He needs stability."

Elliott could barely grasp what was going on. "Adrian, we've always had this plan. If anyone is changing, it's you."

Adrian shook his head at his brother. "Things are changing. Mat is happy here, and so am I. I'm making friends. Mat is getting better. The only one suffering is you, and we all know why. In that sick, twisted mind of yours, you enjoy being tormented by your memories. You won't let them go. Elliott, you need to move on. If you're reading now, you should really read the book I suggested. It might help."

Elliott wanted to yell and scream. He could barely think straight. "No! We're in danger, we can't stay here, don't you see? No one can be trusted, Adrian. That was rule number one, and now you're trusting Anna! We don't really know her."

"We've known her for a while now, Elliott! I think we're fine. If you could just open your eyes and realize this! You're only as trapped as your mind believes. You can set yourself free."

Elliott stumbled back. "You're the delusional one, Adrian."

"Elliott, you need help. We can call a doctor, okay? A therapist. Anyone. You need to get help, though."

Elliott couldn't believe Adrian was turning on him. He could barely breathe, feeling the anxiety curl around his throat and tighten. He wasn't going insane. He was fine. He was normal. He was safe. He just needed to get the others to safety, where they could be a real family again. Not like this, haunted by mother.

"I'll talk to Anna when she gets home. We can fix everything, I promise. Even you."  Adrian's voice was strange, too sweet, too concerned. Elliott didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it. Not one bit.

* * *

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