Chapter Forty-Two

I didn't know what to do, so I sat on the stairs of back porch of the house. Eyeing the shed that both Riley and Ellie were currently in, or rather, underneath. Ellie's resistance to touch me has made me realize how dependent he is on me, and unfortunately, I've also realized how dependent I am on him.

So, I no longer want to baby him, I know I can't. He should make his own decisions, and it seems that he's already learning to do so.

Riley made good points yesterday, how I have no friends, no social life, therefore Ellie is my world. I love Ellie, but I'm starting to wonder what things would be like if I also expanded my world, more people, more responsibilities, and maybe I can even fall in love with someone else.

Ellie will always be my number one, but to only have one person to care about cannot be healthy.

Same thing goes for him. Ellie needs other people too; he just doesn't know it yet. I've been so blinded by grief with the loss of my father I haven't realized how desperate I was to live normally again until Riley gave me the option. When he told me yesterday that he'd help me to finish high school online and get my degree so I can go to college, I pushed the thought away the moment it appeared.

Now that Ellie is showing a form of independence from me, finishing high school and going to college doesn't sound so bad. In fact, it's the only thing that has been on my mind since Ellie and Riley left to the shed.

I watched a squirrel run across the backyard and up a tree. A bee buzzes past my head and onto a tulip growing on the side of the porch It nests itself into the crevices of the flower. I hear one of the nearby neighbors staring the lawnmower, and a loud car passing by.

Everything feels so normal, but the normalcy of it all is unknown to me. I've been shut in my house for months, and then on the run for weeks. I can not remember how the world works. How animals and people can go on with their days with complete mundane thoughts. Everything seems twisted to me, upside down.

I don't even know if I could make friends at college if I tried. I don't know if I can even converse with someone normal and of my own age.

I don't know how many hours pass, a few times I have got up from the step that I sat on and stretched, only to sit back down again. I spent most the time lost in my own head, thinking about the future and what the hell I should do next.

The sun is setting by the time Riley comes out of the shed. I notice immediately that Ellie does not follow him out, nor is he with him at all.

Riley says nothing as he comes and sits on the step beside me. He heaves a heavy sigh, and when he doesn't offer any information, I can't stop myself from asking, "Why isn't Ellie coming out? Is he alright?"

"He's fine." He says, his tone clearly thick with exhaustion, "That's just it, Ripley. He's absolutely fine."

I frown, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he has no symptoms at all. I cut into his fucking arm and he watched me do it like he was more fascinated than hurt."

"You cut his arm?" I stand, "Are you insane?"

He does not look angry, his face is blank when he simply says, "I cut into his arm because he asked me too." When I do not respond, he shifts, "You were right, about the blood. He has learned to control it, or close to controlling it. He was clearly uncomfortable with me touching him, but somehow that didn't set off the properties of his power, or, the blood's power."

I ponder that, "He normally would lose control when he was uncomfortable."

Riley corrects me, "More like when he felt threatened."

"But he doesn't lose control, not really, not anymore." When we had first started our journey here, I had to hide Ellie from anyone passing by us. It is as if the walk here had been beneficial to him, and that I had sheltered him at home too much, which had caused him to not grow. Once again it was my fault that he had struggled.

"Exactly. Either he has become stronger, or the blood is becoming weaker. So, he asked me to hurt him." He shook his head, with an awed expression, "Real bad."

"Is he alright?"

He does not answer me, and instead just beckons to the shed. I take that as an invitation to end the conversation and go down and see him.

I walk down the staircase in the shed, and immediately see Ellie sitting on the metal table, with a surgical knife in his hand, slowly cutting a line down his arm.

I gawk at him for a long moment, before he looks up at me, his face unreadable. Black blood is dripping from the self-inflicted cut down his arm, and I don't know what to say or do.

I make to move towards him, but he quickly speaks, "No." I halt, "You cannot get any closer."

"You're hurting yourself." I tell him, on the floor there is a puddle of black, and I can not bear to look at it. "Why the fuck are you doing this?"

He doesn't look like he's going to tell me, and I hate that he is so secretive. I don't wait for a response, because I know I won't get one. "Riley told me he cut your arm, that you told him to do it. He said you both already concluded that you can control yourself better. Why are you still cutting?"

He takes a long moment to respond, and I'm grateful that he is not slicing himself any more, in fact, he places the tool down on the table, and slowly steps off, "I do not believe it." He says so matter-of-factly, that I'm taken back.

"You don't believe you can control yourself. That makes no sense since you have been."

"Yes, I have been, but not will be." He looks at me so intently, "I am unsure of my future self."

"But you've been fine-"

"I killed him." He looks at me so intently as he cuts me off, "I killed Marley. I killed him and I think about it so much that I do not trust me."

My concern for him triples. I knew he was traumatized by Marley, but my own trauma has stopped me from talking about it with him. "That doesn't mean you'll do it again. What you're feeling is a normal emotion. It's not the blood making you feel this way."

"Killing is wrong, Ripley."

"But people kill all the time."

"Then I am bad."

"No, you're not bad." I take a step towards him, but he takes several steps back. I stop, and we stare at each other.

"I'm going to kill again."

I shake my head, "I don't think you are."

"You are wrong."

"Think about it," I try to get him to understand that he killed not because he had no control of himself, but because he was angry. Angry that Marley tried to kill him. Angry that Marley tried to hurt me. It was human instinct, not out of control power. "Why did you kill Marley. What motivated you to do it?"

He looks at me, but does not respond, so I continue, "You killed Marley to protect us. You did not do it because you didn't have a choice."

Again he doesn't respond, and his eyes trail to his arm. It is still dripping, but at an even more rapid pace. "You need to clean that wound up, before it gets worse." I warn him, but he makes no move to do so. Impatient, I grab a clean rag, "Let me do it. I'll put gloves on, I won't touch it."

I reach out to him, but he jerks himself away from me, "Riley." He breathes, "Riley will do it."

I don't let myself get hurt, as I nod, "Okay." I say, throwing him the rag. He doesn't attempt to catch it as it falls to the floor, "I'll go get him."