“Eli,” I whisper and watch my surroundings.

Ma doesn’t like me saying his name. She takes me to the lake when I do. Even after I stopped, she still takes me to the lake sometimes.

I hate that lake water and them monsters in the lake.

I miss Eli.

We used to play together but then he became the one who shall not be named.

When I’m alone at night, I murmur his name so I don’t forget about him.

Dad said Eli went to heaven.

Sometimes I hate Eli. He said we’ll always go to places together, but he didn’t take me with him.

When I told Ma I wanted to go to heaven to Eli, she took me to the lake and made me swim.

I hate swimming.

I hate them monsters in Ma’s eyes when she’s all in white.

With one last glance behind me, I tiptoe and put the key into the hole then turn it.

The door squeaks and my heart stops beating.

Stop squeaking, little idiot.

I slip inside, gripping the lamp tighter.

The whimpering stops.

Everything stops.

I stay glued at the door and cover my nose with the back of my hand.

Smells like pee and throw up.

Eww. Who made a mess?

Using the lamp, I move it around the basement. I’ve never been in here before. All the walls are stone with no windows like a cave.

Something clinks in the far right corner.

Gasping, I direct the light in that direction.

I stop in my tracks. My hands tremble, causing the light to shake.

In the corner stands a boy as tall as Eli. He has dark hair like Eli, too. His shirt and trousers have dirty smudges. A cuff surrounds his ankle, attached to a chain that’s dangling from the wall.

Silver duct tape covers his mouth so tightly, it appears painful.

He squints at the light from the lamp, then slowly, too slowly, opens his eyes.

Dark eyes.

Metal eyes.

They look like Eli’s eyes.

With slow movements, I approach him. “Are you Eli?”

He doesn’t say anything.

I stop a small distance away, watching him closely.

He’s not Eli, but he looks so beautiful. I want to become friends with him.

His face is smudged with dirt. I reach into my dress’s pocket and retrieve a napkin. It’s a present from Daddy that I always keep on me, but it’s okay.

I can wash it later.

I approach the boy. My heart squeezes at the red marks surrounding his ankle from the cuff.

He flinches back when I’m within arm’s reach.

I wipe the side of his eyes where there’s a beautiful mole.

He remains still, watching me intently as if he’s about to snap any second.

“I’m Elsa. What’s your name?” I frown “Wait. You have tape.”

Slowly, I remove the duct tape from around his mouth.

He winces then licks his dry lips. His eyes meet mine for a second as I wipe the side of his face with the handkerchief.

He grabs my hand harshly. I gasp and the handkerchief falls to the dirty ground.

Eli’s look-alike whispers in a scratchy, haunted voice, “Help me.”

38

Aiden

When Knight sent me a text saying that he drove Elsa back to the Meet Up, I thought he was fucking with me.

He’s not as vindictive as Nash, but he’s still holding a grudge about how I hugged Reed — and every time I used her against Elsa.

It’s around five when I step into the house. It’s pitch black.

Everyone else left.

The rain is the only sound that can be heard inside the house.

I head upstairs with slow steps. I don’t know why Elsa went to her shrink right after that fucker Nash told her something she didn’t need to know yet, but my instincts tell me it’s not good.

As soon as I walk into the dark room, I hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

With quiet steps, I stalk to the door and push it open.

A shadow stands in front of the sink.

I hit the switch. White light bathes the bathroom.

Elsa doesn’t squint or move. It’s like she wasn’t even aware that she was standing in a pitch-black bathroom.

She’s scrubbing her hands under the water over and over again. Her expression is serene, peaceful almost.

It’s so similar to her expression.

I hate that expression on Elsa’s face. My Elsa isn’t a washed-up version of someone else.

Elsa is Elsa with her infuriating stubbornness and breakable innocence.

She’s not that woman.

Her hands have become red, which means she must’ve been at it for a while now.

“Elsa,” I call her name.

She doesn’t pay me attention as if I don’t exist. She continues scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing.

At this rate, her hands will bleed.

I step to her side and clutch her arm.

She pushes me away and shoves her hands under the tap again. “They’re dirty. I need to clean them.”

“They’re not dirty, Elsa.” I try to pull her away again, but she squirms free.

I let her. Any type of force will have the exact opposite effect on her.

“I saw you,” she whispers.

“You saw me,” I repeat, unsure where she’s going with this.

“You were chained in the basement. That’s the reason for the scar on your ankle.” Her lower lip trembles and her scrubbing turns more aggressive. “Was it Ma or Dad?”

My left eye twitches.

She remembers.

She finally fucking remembers.

“No. Don’t tell me that,” she blurts. “I think I know. When Jonathan burnt Ethan’s factory down, Dad must’ve kidnapped you as a fuck you to Jonathan. Cole and Xander were taken by mistake, that’s why they were returned almost immediately and the kidnappers never asked for ransom. Ethan didn’t need the money. He only wanted to hit Jonathan where it hurts the most.”

I remain silent. If she remembers, everything else will start making sense.

She’s smart to connect all the dots.

“But it wasn’t Dad who kept you, was it?” Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. “It was Ma. The worst part is, I don’t think you were the first boy that she kept in the basement since Eli’s death. But usually, they’re gone after a day. You’re the only one she kept that long.” A tear slides down her cheek and clings to the teardrop in her upper lip. “You’re the only one she hurt that much.”

My face remains the same. I knew this time would come. I knew Elsa would remember, but hearing her choked tone and watching her trying so hard not to break hurts more than I thought it would.

I want to hold her.

Protect her.

But I doubt she’d let me.

“I’m a carbon copy of her.” She finally stops scrubbing, but her hands remain under the water.

Her eyes meet mine.

Those electric blue, blue eyes.

They’re rimmed with tears and red like she’s been crying since I left her ten years ago.

“How can you look at my face?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“I told you,” I murmur. “You were a ghost.”

“You saw my mother in me that first day at RES, didn’t you?” Her voice cracks as if she doesn’t want to say the words.