DANGEROUS ELYSIUM

PART TWO

SHARNA

When I first met Oliver, it was in kindergarten. ​He was the new kid, and I’d just come during the spring semester. I had to because my dad had work to do, and though I tried fighting it, I had to go with him, to a huge city that meant next to nothing to me. To be honest, it was like I was being punished. Still, my mom told me to get over myself and do what I was told. So I did. ​She ran off, leaving just me and my dad. So you can kind of figure out I didn't have much to do with my dad even though we lived together. I reminded him too much of the woman who fled. Like it was my fault. I was nearly six for god sake.

Anyway, it was in the afternoon when I saw him. He was just sitting in the corner, watching all the other kids playing. Of course, a couple of kids tried to talk to me for the most part, and they just left him alone. He seemed weird, well, I thought he was weird at first. Just looking at him. He had dark hair, with equally dark eyes. He was pale and kind of thin and was smaller than me. But there was something different about him. For one thing, he had a cheerful smile on his face. For another, he was happy, so much so he stuck out like a sore thumb. I wondered why. No one spoke to him, they ignored him yet he still smiled.

I remember that day. The day he actually spoke to me. "Will you play with me?"

That's what he asked. And of course I was rude. "Why would I?"

​"Ooh, a southern accent? Is it Southern? Mommy says it’s not polite to ask that kind of stuff." I remembered blinking so confused, yet he plopped right next to me.

"Then why’d you ask?"

​"Because I have an aunt from Texas," he quipped, "and she sounds just like you. Hey, are you from Texas?" ​Admittedly, I was impressed. But I wasn’t about to admit that to some know-it-all. So I ignored him too, for the rest of the day. Then of course, I ignored him the next day and the next day and the next and the next. ​But as time passed I found myself being worn down by the boy who’d ask me a plethora of questions. Whether it be about my accent, or my ability to brush aside everything good in the world, or even the way I chewed the end of my pencil whenever I was nervous. Then it dawned on me that I was being watched. Sometimes, it got more than a little creepy, but other times, I was just plain curious. Was it because he was new? Was it because he looked different from everyone else? Was it because he was really weird? I thought about asking him, but every time I tried he would simply shrug and ask me another question. ​That changed one day. The school year was almost over and soon I would be in the first grade. To be honest, I was more than a little scared. But I knew I had to go through with it. My dad was going to be at the ceremony, what with the stupid fancy suit and all. Granted, I was still a little peeved at him with moving and shit, but according to him that wasn’t the point.

I remember looking around the classroom. I saw the same old faces, who gave me the same, wary smiles. But Oliver wasn’t there. So I went to ask Ms. Karen. After five minutes of badgering, she told me Oliver was in the bathroom as well as the obvious fact that I had to wait my turn. I nodded. Then promptly went to the bathroom and sat in front of the door. ​Soon, it was time to leave for the ceremony. Ms. Karen called for us. I tuned out what she was saying, as I stood and started knocking on the bathroom door. "I know you’re in there!" I shouted. "C’mon out!" ​Absolute silence. I was so damn irritated. So I started knocking louder. "We’re gonna be late! We have to leave! Everyone’s waiting!" ​I kept up my incessant knocking, before finally, I heard the door unlock. I hesitated for a moment, but I found myself going in anyway. "Hey," I started, only to stop when I saw tears. Crying. That strange boy was crying. ​He also had a black eye. ​Of course, Ms. Karen was freaking out. She kept asking who hit him, whether or not anyone else knew too. She also kept asking me to leave, though I didn’t know why. ​Still, I found myself just staring at him. He was crying. There was no smile on his face and instead of questions, sobs poured from his mouth. I felt sorry for him for some reason, if not a little remorseful. It probably had to do with the jerks that kept ignoring him too. Well, when I thought of it, I was a jerk too. So I marched up to him, and crouched down. "Please don't cry," I stated in a loud, obnoxious voice and looked up at him. He looked so confused, but I continued. "I’m five, but I’ll be six next week. I’m having a birthday party next week and I was wondering if you’d want to go? We can even be friends, if you want?" ​I remember that exact moment dark eyes lit up and the smile I've seen spread right across his tear stained cheeks. It felt like an eternity of silence had passed between us, before finally, he smiled again, through his tears.

"Thank you," he whispered. "I’ll be six soon too. And…and I wanna come." We become friends, just like that. Oliver became someone so important to me I couldn't even fathom it myself sometimes, it just was. Weeks turned into months and months turned into years. Inseparable, that's what we were and before our tenth birthdays, tragedy struck. His mom died in a traffic accident. The driver ran a red light and hit his mom as she was crossing the road. She died instantly. Then I became his only support until he went and stayed with his uncle, then we didn't see each other much after that. We spoke a lot, but it wasn't the same. We started to drift and I hated it.

Then my dad remarried some bitch of a woman who had to get her claws into his back pocket, yet with that woman came a son my age. Morgan. I hated him….at first. Then he kind of grew on me and I grew on him too. But he was sly and devious to the point it was enthralling. Tantalising. Immoral. He opened up a much darker part of me I didn't know existed, or maybe it did and I just needed Morgan to water that deeper part of me and let me tell you, he did and still does.

Then nearly two years later, actually it was on my twelfth birthday Oliver came back. He came back to me, but I wasn't the Sharna he knew. God I wanted to be that Sharna, I really did yet Morgan hated him instantly. So instead of embracing my once best friend, the boy who was to me more than just a best friend….I made him my enemy. I pushed him away because it's what Morgan told me to do and for ten years I've pushed and I've pushed and I've pushed. I’d told myself it was for his own good, since he’d become far too attached to me, but I knew that was only half the truth. I was nothing more than an empty vessel spilling my hate everywhere I go. Manipulating everyone to my advantage and the only person who could ever love a lying piece of shit like me was sitting in front of me now, ten years later.

It's stupid, but I take whatever Morgan gives me. "Brother dearest…."

"What?" I shot Morgan one of my 'your fucking disgusting' face's. "Don't say that. That's fucking nasty."

"Oh really? Would you prefer something else? You can call me daddy if you want to…"

"Shut up Morgan. Just...don't."

"Why not?"

"Because it just sounds wrong."

"And fucking your step brother isn't? Oh...no, I meant getting fucked by your step brother….my mistake."

"Well no one knows that."

"So. We're still brothers. Be it blood or marriage. What would your father think if he knew? Cut you off? Kick you to the streets? Take away your credit card? This list goes on and on Sharna." He's always making threats.

"What? You want a blowjob? Is that what this is about? Thinking about me calling you daddy, turn you on?" I asked, my voice sounding like I’d swallowed a handful of broken glass.

"Actually, yeah. It kinda does…."

"Too bad I'm going out."

"Where?"

"Anywhere you're not," he sighed, like always. "...You piss me off." I added lamely, though the words didn’t even begin to describe the shit storm I’d been dealing with these last few weeks… years, actually.

"Fine. But keep that sweet ass handy for later Sharna, I'm going to be feeling pretty insatiable."

"I'm sure you will…."

Then I was cut off when his big hand gripped the back of my hair. "This ass," he hissed in my ear. "Will always and only ever be mine. I'm making it pretty clear, right?" I winced when his grip tightened and honestly, it was a pretty big fucking turn on.

"Crystal."

"You sure I can't tempt you?" He asked, slowly squeezing my nuts in his other hand, the way I like it.

I swallowed hard as I nodded my head. "Fuck it. I'll give going out a miss. I guess you get your way."

"Oh Sharna," he whispered, sending a jolt down my spine to settle in my ass. "I always...always get my way." I hated memories. I hated them. I hated that I let Morgan have his way. I hated everything about my life. But if it's one thing I've learned over the years, letting Morgan have my body would keep him and his mother from destroying me and my dad. Morgan is….like a whole different kind of human. He has his hands in nearly every pocket in every corner of this city and his mother was no different. This was my only way. My only way of surviving and making sure he doesn't hurt Oliver. As they say, you gotta be cruel to be kind and I was cruel. So cruel it made me sick.

Again, memories hurt. A single tear and whispered words that still haunted me even now. "I hate you…" Oliver choked.

"No....you don't."

"Yes I do."

"Then hate me with all your heart...hate me so much I can never forget you."

Everything had changed from that moment going forward. This is me now. This is how I will be until I can't anymore. But maybe one day I can have….Freedom. Even if just for a little while. I imagined the taste of it would be satisfying on my tongue. I imagined it would taste of accomplishment and calm. A flavor I wasn’t familiar with. But a flavor I yearned for all the same. One day. One day soon.