Free Caustic by Morgan Black Page A

was so much larger. “You couldn’t have fixed her. Mental illness isn’t just something that you can put a Band-Aid on, Skye. It took years of therapy, and I’m still on meds in order to keep my anger under control.”
    She shook her head, the tears now flowing steadily down her cheeks. “But you had something to be angry about. We lived a perfect middle-class life! There was nothing wrong with our picture. You, on the other hand, you had every right to be angry.” She looked at me, the color draining out of her face. Somehow, she knew why I had been put in the hospital. One of Leia’s journals must’ve described it; so much for privacy.
    “You know, don’t you?”
    She hung her head in shame. “Yes.” Then, she lifted her hands, and pleaded with me. “But only bits and pieces. I don’t know the whole story.”
    “You don’t need to. As long as you know that I was put in there because I get angry sometimes, and I hit things when I do, that’s enough to keep you away from me.”
    “But what if I wanted to? What if I wanted to know about your mom and her murder? Would you tell me?”
    I heard another crack of thunder outside; the storm was upon us. “I guess that depends.”
    “On what?”
    “Or how you would feel about me if you knew. If you knew the things that they said about me, about the person that I was, or the person that I am.”
    She sat back down in the empty armchair, and I watched as the dust blew up around her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She placed her hands on her knees, waiting eagerly for my response. “Tell me.”
    Part of me wanted to tell her, so she would know that it wasn’t my fault. It took years of therapy for me to figure that out, but I finally did. And it wasn’t my fault; it was the terrible people that I had grown up around. People my mother trusted. People she shouldn’t have. “My dad used to beat my mom and I. It was pretty bad, and, one night, he just keeled over.”
    She cocked her head at me, her dark green eyes imploring me to tell the truth. “I don’t need to PG-13 version, Ellis. I want the real story. You know mine. My sister was found hanging by a noose after going to therapy and on serious medication. And you know exactly what happened after that. You probably know more than I do. So, the least you can give me here, is the truth.”
    “Are you asking me if I killed my father? Because, if you are, you might as well just say it!”
    She rolled her eyes. “Fine, did you kill him?”
    I didn’t expect her to actually ask. I don’t know why I didn’t expect her to ask. I just didn’t. How could I tell her the truth? How could I tell her that my mother was a murderer, and that I, as a young boy, couldn’t protect her? It killed me inside. I would let the rumors fly for years because I thought it was better that way. I thought it would keep us both safe. But, then, she found a new boyfriend; the same type of guy as my dad. Deadbeat alcoholic who had a thing for hitting women and kids. She never should have let him in our house; her death was his fault. I sighed heavily and ran my fingers through my hair, trying to contemplate how to explain this to her. How to explain both my guilt and my anger, and how, when they met on the inside of my body, felt like waves crashing against each other. “I didn’t kill him. I wanted to. And I should have done it with my bare hands, but I didn’t. My mother killed my father. And then her boyfriend killed her. A vicious cycle of death surrounds my life, Skye. Something that you don’t need to get involved in.”
    “You don’t get to make that decision.” She stood up again, her hands flailing along with her words. “I’m a big girl, and I have my own dark parts. Everybody does! But you don’t get to decide whether or not I want to be involved with you. Because, honestly, I hardly have a decision in the matter. Once my heart tells me to do something, I’m in. And, whatever it is about you, Ellis Waters, I’m