El shakes his head. “Don’t listen to him. What would you have to gain from running away? You’ve made it fifteen years; three more won’t kill you.”
“Why put up with it for three more years?” Aspen asks. “You’d get away from both of them. You’d finally get to live for yourself.”
“And do what for the rest of his life? If he drops out of school, he’s going to get a job doing what, exactly? Who is hiring a fifteen-year-old? Who is housing him? He has no experience with the outside world. His parents have raised him to be completely dependent on them. He has housekeepers and drivers and chefs… Aspen, be realistic. He’s never even made himself a sandwich or taken public transport, and you think he’s going to suddenly be able to start a life out there?”
“Fuck you,” Aspen snaps. “Fuck you.” He shoves El hard enough that El stumbles back and slams into the glass coffee table. It’s a decorative piece with one leg that twists around, which means that when El hits it, the table tips before hitting, shattering everywhere.
Aspen disappears and I’m left staring at the table. A laugh escapes me because I cannot fathom how everything I do makes this day worse and worse. I kneel down and begin haphazardly picking up the glass. A piece cuts into my hand, but I don’t care. I’m not even sure I notice the pain of the cut over the pain in my stomach.
El grabs me and shoves me back before he pries my bloody hand open and knocks the glass out of it. “Stop this. Ellison, youhave to stop this.” I can hear the car in the driveway and reach back for the glass. I have to have it cleaned up before my father gets in, but I’ll only have minutes.
El pushes me back farther and opens the closet door. Inside are perfectly arranged blankets so that when my mother decides she’s tired of the drab tan she can pull out the beige blankets. They are not to be used if someone is cold; they are only for decoration.
He shoves me inside, wraps a blanket around me, and slams the door shut. I’m horribly confused, but the cocoon he’s placed me in makes me feel more at ease. I’m getting blood all over the blanket and I know I’ll be chastised for that as well, but I find it impossible to care.
I hear the front door open and question what El thinks the plan is. Does he think they’re just going to give up if I’m not around for them to berate when they get home? Instead, their anger is going to build up so when they find me, they can be angry about my absence as well.
When I close my eyes, I can see through El’s. I know that he’s diligently cleaning up the glass with a broom and dustpan when my father and mother walk in.
What the hell is he doing? They’re going to get so upset when they realize he’s out there. They’re going to?—
“What the hell is this, Ellison?” Mother asks. “This is my favorite table!”
“I tripped on the rug just like Jen did,” he says, voice calm. “I didn’t mean to fall onto it.”
“Why are you worried about a fucking table?” Father asks. “Beatrice, is that really what you’re concerned about?”
Mother purses her lips but says nothing.
“Ellison, get over here.”
El hesitates, caught up in cleaning the glass. But when he goes to stand, he evidently doesn’t do it fast enough becauseFather grabs him by the hair, hauling him across the glass on bare feet. Since he’s an illusion, it doesn’t hurt him, but Father doesn’t know that.
“You used an illusion during school today? You used an illusion toassaulta student?”
“He called me… he called me an inappropriate name, threw me against the wall, and then poured his water bottle on my books. All that happened was my illusion pushed him off me so he wouldn’t hurt me anymore. He had me pinned there and he was hurting me.”
“I don’t give a shit what he did. You fucking put up with it, do you understand? You have shamed this family again and again?—”
Suddenly, I’m kicked out of El’s mind. For a moment, I think that maybe he’s disappeared, and if he has and Father discovers he’s been talking to one of my illusions, he’s going to be even more furious, but I can still hear them berating me outside that door. But in here, their words are muffled and if I twist just right and close my eyes, I can’t hear them clearly now that El has blocked me from his mind.
“What are you doing?” Aspen asks while I stare at the clinic doors. It’s been months since the incident at school, but it seems like everything I do just builds and builds until I can’t breathe. “El, what the fuck. You’re letting him do this?”
“He’s his own person; he can do whatever he wants,” El says.
Aspen jumps in front of me and shoves me away from the door. “You would get rid of us? You’d get rid of the only ones in your life who care about you?”
I bite my lip until I can taste blood, unable to say anything. Unable to tell him that if they were gone, more people would care about me. Real people. My life would be happy. Maybe my parents would love me then.
“Ellison, please, why would you do this?” Aspen asks as he shoves me hard. “Why would you do this?”
El blocks Aspen from touching me. “We don’t even know if it’d work. It didn’t last time.”
“Yes, but it’s been many years since his father forced him to do this. They’ve had more successes. He wouldn’t be here if he fully believed it wouldn’t work,” Aspen counters.
“I want it to go away. I want it all to go away. Please. I can’t deal with this anymore,” I say as I clutch at my head.
“Run away!” Aspen pleads.
