Part 1: Denial - Episode 13

The screams, though not screaming – yelling – still felt equally shattering. Hope stood awkwardly, speaking like a concerned mother, loudly and sternly. Though William didn’t seem to listen, nor did Elias, retaliating harshly, hurt, genuine hurt ran thickly through both of their eyes, screaming about.. What? That much was unknown. 

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again, whose fucking side are you on?!” Elias exclaimed desperately, tears brimmed harshly in his genuine eyes. “You’ve asked. So. Many. Times!” William thundered, anger, fear lingered in his booming yells. “Same goes for you! I feel fucking looked down upon here!”
“Elias, we don’t look down on you,” Hope said sincerely, though her tone lingered with an uncomfortable emptiness, disregarded by Elias. At once, William flinched; though not from fear, instead anger. Raising his arm slightly, immediately shooting it down to his side, his teeth were bared and his jaw was clenched harshly. At the sudden movement, Elias paused, his breath barely escaped his dry throat. His throat hurt. His voice hurt. He… hurt. Elias looked up, scared, at William, in confusion. A tear slid–alone–down his smooth cheek. “Elias, you’re overreacting,” Hope cooed softly, “you’re acting like a child. Like I said; you’re blinding yourself with your feelings. Come on, be for real, you too, William,” Hope pointed a sharp, unfriendly look towards William, still breathing heavily, looking like the Usseewa cover, Elias harshly thought to himself, silently. “I’m being ‘for real’,” Elias croaked. His voice was uneven and rough from being on the absolute verge of tears for so long. “I want to leave this forest.”
“You’re not being for fucking real. What if you die?”
“You gonna fucking help me find the ring, or not, William?” Elias spat, disgust audible in his voice. Elias spoke, deeply, an intimidating growl was present in his voice, a voice, a personality–fuck it, a person Wlliam had never heard before.
“Think, Elias,” Hope murmured, her voice stern again.
“If anything, I’m the only one thinking here.” He felt it, but, in the back of his mind, a nagging feeling weighed down on him, knowing–aware–of how outlandish and… downright idiotic he sounded with this theory. “If you want to run away so badly,” William sliced mercilessly through the sad, angry, uncomfy silence, “then go.” He finished. Elias stopped for a moment; processing. His eyes flicked all over the room, being unwillingly drawn back to William, a sinking, corroding feeling crawled maliciously through his stomach. “...You won’t come with me?” Yet, instead of a comfortable, warm silence as a response, William stared coldly into Elias eyes, into his soul. “No.”

William turned, striding immediately to the door of Hope’s cabin, aggressively wrenching the thick, wooden door, making his way out, his muscles visibly tensed. Watching idly, Elias blinked once, twice. He darted out, determined, behind William. In a dire attempt to stop him, Hope reached out, missing him completely as he sprinted out. The persistent wind blew quickly through the entire surrounding forest. Grasping William’s forearm hard, Elias gripped it tightly, William snapped around barely a moment after, looking down into Elias’ complex, dire expression. Although noticeably not shaking free of his hold. “You can’t storm out like that,” Elias spat. For a moment longer, William simply stared. Processing, as the world seemed to slow.

. . . 

Evangeline Winterbourne, William’s mother, stood in the doorway, a striking silhouette. “What has your father said about the boy in his household?” she spat, though still having a firm grasp on her composure. She stared down Abel as the two sat on the ground, having been chatting. “Yes mother, he can’t be here,” William groaned flatly, turning to face Abel, his face apologetic, sincere. He sighed sadly. He was 18, he was able to do what he wanted. At least.. He wanted to have that freedom. Evangeline slammed the door harshly, leaving William and Abel in the dark. Abel whispered to William, snickering, “Even if you’re looking like a five year old, all mopey and sad while talking to your mother, you’re still kinda sexy,” Abel joked. Gently punching him in the arm, grinning to himself, William replied, “I’ll come to your house now, instead. I’m probably not invited to have dinner with mother and father anymore, anyway,” he sighed. Abel moved to hug William, the cold skin of William against the warm, slightly blushing skin of Abel. “Let’s go,” William smiled. Even if he appeared happy on the outside, his brain throbbed with disappointment. He was a failure. Fucking mistake, wasn’t he.