23. Abandonment Issues and Midnight Spooning

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Mom bursts through the Wilkinson's front door, a hot rod up her ass. A mother on a mission. She's clocks Shaun and I sat on the leather sofa and immediately runs to us, breathing for quite possibly the first time since being contacted by Detective Saunders.

"My babies!"

She wraps us up in a hug and rocks us back and forth, repeatedly thanking God for keeping us safe. For offering us a different fate to the one Chad was given.

"Are you hurt?" she asks, pulling back an inch.

She briefly captures Elliot's chin and angles his face, checking for any visible injuries. Then–repeating the action on Jasmine–she breaks down.

"I thought-oh God, I thought..."

"Mom," whispers Shaun, pulling her to his chest. "We're okay. We're safe."

Elliot's hand reaches for mine, his face a picture of shock. No doubt a combination of seeing a dead body and receiving concern from Mom. He's a stranger to parental love. And it shows. It shines through him in fragmented lights. Like a broken lamp.

"Jasmine?" Interrupts Phil–her father.

His arrival sees her jumping up, keen to embrace him.

"We'll need statements from all four of you," informs Detective Saunders, approaching our small group.

Condemned to a tiny section in the Wilkinson's living room sees us with nothing to do but helplessly wait as the professionals assess the scene upstairs. Not that we're holding out much hope. Chad's as dead as the day is long. Was long before we got to him.

"An adult will need to be present," he continues, seemingly concerned, "Is there someone we can call for you, Elliot?"

Without warning, Elliot hangs his head and releases a sob, the reality of the situation hitting him square in the face. No one is here for him. Aunt Sarah, unreachable. Or unbothered.

"No. There's no one."

I freeze, incapable of moving. Of helping. How the hell am I supposed to tell him that his family's abandonment is okay when it's anything but? It's unacceptable. Cruel.

"I'm here for him," insists Mom, stepping up.

Still, Elliot's head refuses to lift. He's spiralling into a pit of despair and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

"Hey," soothes Shaun, sliding off of the sofa to crouch in front of him. "I know what it's like to be thrown out like last week's trash by flesh and blood. I know what it's like to have a biological Mom and Dad who don't care."

I stop breathing, listening to Shaun's revelation. His honesty.

"I also know that my sister really likes you and because of that, I really like you. And this woman right here." He points to Mom. "My mother–my real mother–she's going to make sure you're okay tonight. You're angry. I get it. I am too." He pauses, embodying frustration. "How dare our parents have us and bail? How dare they leave us to fend for ourselves? But, ya know what? They're the fuck-ups. Not us. And you're not alone. You're never alone."

Fucking hell!

In another rash moment, Elliot lunges at Shaun and hugs him, tears streaming down his face. The pair embrace like brothers, bonded by this hideous thing. This mutual loneliness.

"How about we start with you, Elliot?" suggests Saunders. "That way, you can get it over with."

Mom nods, ushering Elliot along with a smile. A forced enthusiasm.

"Sure," he says, reluctantly pulling away from Shaun. "Sounds good."

Once gone, I pull on my brother's arm and guide him towards the sofa, keeping my gaze level with his.

"Is that how you really feel?" I ask. "Abandoned?"

He glances to Jasmine before nodding. "It's not how I feel. It's just fact."

I squeeze his hands, trying my hardest to understand.

"It bothers me," he admits. "Not because I want them to love me. Or because I'm unhappy in life. But they had a responsibility. A responsibility they failed to stick to."

And it angers me that they did.

"Nights like this really put things into perspective. I know who's really there for me. I know who my real family are." Again, he looks to Jasmine. "But this will always be with me. The abandonment will always be with me."

Wow.

"Maybe it's good that you have Elliot," I offer, smiling. "He understands you in ways Jas and I never could."

He nods.

"Tonight really freaked him out," I reveal.

"Yeah."

"His dad is dead."

Jasmine interrupts, cuddling into Shaun while Phil grills a younger detective over by the front door. "Whose Dad is dead?"

"Elliot's."

She frowns. "Well, technically he isn't."

Wait? What?

"Carl Hudson has only been missing for four years," she continues. "To be legally declared dead, you have to have been missing for seven."

"Carl Hudson isn't Elliot's dad!" I insist.

"Yeah, he is."

Since when?

"Why the separate surname?" asks Shaun, intrigued.

Jasmine shrugs. "Why d'ya think? Being associated with a Hudson is asking for a death wish around here."

That's true. The Hudson surname is bad news. Not only are they perceived as the town scum, they're cursed. Literally. No good ever comes their way. Murder, fraud, suicide. You name it. They've dabbled in everything.

No wonder Elliot is so reluctant to discuss his father.

The monster that he was.

The abuse he inflicted.

****

Pitch black surrounds me as I lie motionless in bed, incapable of sleep. Elliot is next to me, undergoing his own internal battle in the form of grinding his teeth. It's another one of his bad habits, alongside biting his lip.

"Are you awake?" I ask, voice staining against my attempt at whispering.

"Yeah," he replies.

After giving our statements to Detective Saunders, Chad was officially pronounced dead , cementing in our brains what we all already knew. We kept what we knew to ourselves, still not trusting the police with certain information. Although, afterwards, we did all agree that Detective Saunders can't be the killer. To commit a murder and be at work all night is very unlikely. Besides, the note stuffed down Chad's throat was almost identical to the note written on my locker. Whoever is doing this is a student at Lincoln.

"I didn't know your dad was Carl Hudson," I say, confident in doing so amidst the darkness.

He twists in his position, his warm breath fanning my cheek. "That's because I didn't tell you. Most people leave once they learn the truth."

"I'm not most people," I ensure, cupping his jaw.

"And I'm not a Hudson. I refuse any and all association with my father."

"I know."

"I hate him. I hate him so fucking much."

"I know," I repeat, bringing my forehead to his. "You're you, Elliot. You're not him."

"It doesn't bother you?" he asks. "That I have Hudson blood running through me?"

I sigh. "Elliot, you could be the descendent of the devil himself and I wouldn't give a shit. It's you I like. Not some surname this stupid town has branded evil. Besides." I pause. "If being a Hudson has helped you become the man you are today, I think you ought to be proud."

"I'm not proud, Lena. I'm ashamed."

"Why?"

"Because I'm town scum."

I immediately kick off the covers and straddle his waist. "Your dad was town scum. Your grandad was town scum. You," I say, emphasising my point. "Are not town scum."

"But-"

"Is Celia town scum?" I interrupt. "She's a Hudson too, after all."

"No."

"How come?"

"She just isn't," he protests.

"Right." I smile. "Just like her damn brother isn't."

He grabs hold of my hips and flips us over, angling himself so that he's towering over me but not touching.

"Did you just tell me off, Helena Gallagher?"

"Yes."

He plants a sweet kiss on my cheek.

"Can we spoon?" I ask, abruptly.

He laughs. "I beg your pardon?"

"I've never been spooned before," I explain. "I want you to be my first."

He positions himself behind me and tucks my body into his. His front is fully cemented to my back, delightfully pressing into me. I've never been this close to anyone before. Never felt another body like this.

"This okay?" he asks, wrapping his arm around me like a protective shield.

I smile into the darkness and thread my fingers through his. "It's more than okay."

And it really is.

"I wanted to save him," he admits, pressing his lips to my neck.

There, he inflicts three short kisses.

"Me too," I say, closing my eyes. "I didn't like Chad but I'd never wish him dead. Shaun is devastated."

His hand rests across my stomach, skin touching skin. "Hmm."

"I doubt I'll ever get the image of his dead body out of my mind."

I'm pulled closer and squeezed tighter. "It'll get getter. It's bound to."

I bring his hand up to my lips and kiss his knuckles before dropping it to my front. Then–attempting the impossible–I close my eyes, welcoming sleep. The release that I'm sure will come with it. The numbness I'll hopefully feel whist dreaming.

****

Can I just say, I freaking love Elliot and Helena.

Such cuties!

So, thoughts on Chad?

What was so big about his secret that he died protecting it?

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