ᴅʏsꜰᴜɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ;

It wasn’t her game, not in the way beer pong or pool or other house party games were. But she was decent at it. Calli paused, it wasn’t worth risking a potential lose of the game and her temper. She’d lure him out to neutral ground, then hit him where it hurts. ❝ Too far in for darts, ❞ She nodded to the drink in her hand. ❝But if you’re really eager for me to wipe the floor with you, Elliot. I could manage air hockey.❞ 

❝ Worried you’ll accidentally hit somebody with a dart? ❞ He teased, another smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. There was a handful of people that Elliot would love to see be hit by a dart right now. Air hockey wasn’t a game he usually played, or at all, but he’d watched enough people play it that he knew he could pick it up pretty quickly. Besides, what could be so hard about blocking and hitting a puck into a goal? ❝ Air hockey it is. ❞ He nodded, gesturing for her to lead the way. ❝ Winner pays the others tab? ❞ 

Since the new semester had started at Marston College, Adam had held no less than eleven different meetings about what he was still calling, in his head, ‘Scooby Gang 2.0′. He point-blank refused to believe that among the veritable flood of new students, not one of them considered the paranormal as a perfectly logical, even reasonable, intellectual explanation for the oddities not only in Elkridge, but in the world more generally. The latest attacks reported on by the Chronicle had sent dark ripples throughout his faculty. New admission rates were already low; if these mysterious disappearances continued, they might find themselves without any students at all to teach. After Adam had (sensibly) pointed out the correlation between allegedly dangerous places and high rates of tourism, he’d been soft-banned from the staff room.

The memory made him frown as he slapped another bright pink poster to the wall. Banned, he thought irritably, what a crock of shit. Those old phonies wouldn’t know how to look on the bright side if it came up and bit them on the…

Adam huffed in frustration. With the roll of sticky tape clenched in his mouth, he managed to rip off some pieces to tape up the poster, which flapped in the characteristically chill Maine breeze. Adam stepped back after a moment, put his hands on his hips, and surveyed the design. Twelfth time’s the charm, right? Underneath a doodle of a ghost he’d squeaked out, in permanent marker: ARE YOU A BELIEVER? PARANORMAL DISCUSSION GROUP FRIDAY, 6 PM. ROOM SCO-SCI678. SNACKS!

The sound of footsteps approaching made him glance aside. “Hey,” he said casually, gesturing at the poster. “Give me your opinion. Too pink? The copier ran out of paper… But I kinda like it.” Adam tilted his head and considered his handiwork. “It’s got – whaddaya call it – chutzpah!”

Elliot roamed the hallways of Marston College wondering what it would have been like if he had never dropped out of high school and carried on with his education. Would he have even made it into college even if he had never dropped out? He scuffed the floor with his shoe, hands buried deep into the pockets of his hoodie as he further explored the hallways. It was a stupid thought to have, it was even stupider of him to carry on entertaining the idea of what his life could have been like.. but he couldn’t help it. If his mother was still alive and his father wasn’t serving a life sentence behind bars, what kind of student would he have turned out to be? Would he have been a jock, a stoner, a nerd or was he always destined to be a high school drop out? Without even a GED to his name.

He stopped outside a class room door, pale and golden brown hues with flecks of blue peering through the small, glass panel that looked into a room full of students not that much younger than Elliot. If anybody spotted him in the hallways, Elliot would say he was just another student with a free period waiting for his friend to get out of class. Not that he was a drug dealer waiting to make a drop off with another honour student in need of some Adderall to keep them from falling behind in their classes.

Elliot almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of an unexpected voice, his whole body flinching that he actually cursed under his breath. He slowly turned away from the classroom door, skulking across the corridor to examine the poster in question. He squinted his eyes, tilting his head to the side and pursed his lips together.❝ Are you a believer? ❞ He read the poster out loud, an incredulous lilt to his voice.❝ You might as well have wrote ‘the truth is out there’. ❞ Elliot added in a mocking tone of voice, though the idea of a paranormal discussion group had peaked his interest. Maybe he shouldn’t have dropped out of high school after all. At least then he might actually find some answers on what all the strange shit he had been seeing lately really was.

Aly shut her eyes, willing herself not to rise to the bait, to not feel the pain that was radiating through her. She did walk away. But Aly didn’t know what he expected. He said it to her face, that she would never be more than the shit that always sat in his front pocket. Slowly, she turned to face him, her face as smooth, expressionless, not reflecting the turmoil underneath. “You never do give me much choice, do you?” She said it softly. The worst part was that Aly knew exactly what he was doing, he always did this when people made him… feel things. She just didn’t know what feeling she was causing this time. “You know what, Eli? It’s a small town. If you can’t be civil, just fuck off, alright? Least I’m trying. You made your decision, I made mine. Stop punishing me for it.”

He wished he could take it back; all of it. He wished he hadn’t said it as soon as the words had been spoken aloud, as soon as he seen the pain flash across her face. He didn’t want to hurt her, not really. It was just easier if she hated him and the only way he knew how to do that was to hurt her. He was pretty sure she’d love him no matter what, so he had to make sure he only hit below the waist. There’d be no pulling any punches, even if they were the verbal kind. She’s right in what she says, Elliot never gives her much of a choice. That job is usually reserved for her. And she’d offered him a choice — her or the drugs. He’d stupidly chose the drugs, but there was no going back on that decision now. He’d made his choice. These were the consequences he had to live with now. ❝ You backed me into a corner and gave me an ultimatum. What did you think I would do? I’m not a broken little orphan boy who needs fixing. I like who I am, just because you don’t doesn’t give you a right to project that onto me. ❞ That’s right, he tells himself. Keep going. Push her away. BLAME HER. 

Andrew froze. He physically froze. Eyes were locked on Elliot and even though he was a couple of centimeters away, he felt like the distance was too small. He couldn’t possibly mean what Andrew thought he meant,he didn’t know, nobody knew r-

Unless Aly had told him.

The man sat in silence, conflicted, battling his own thoughts. Surely, he was overreacting, Elliot had a PhD in being a little shit and although Andrew was a calm person, his inner peace (if there was such a thing) was always disrupted by Elliot’s words. He wasn’t sure why. Andrew looked around, distracted and his eyes crossed with Trez, the bar’s owner. The man was just standing there but by the way he was crossing his arms and slightly shaking his head, Andrew got he memo that he meant you can do whatever you want but not under my roof. So Andrew stood up, adjusting the bottom of his shirt and walked up to Elliot, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. Not a warm, affectionate squeeze but one that screamed I’m this close to breaking your face. “Enjoy your game, Eli and next time we meet again, if we do, I’d advise you to watch your mouth.”, he offered a cynical smile, tapping the guy’s arm twice. 

Elliot felt his blood begin to boil, anger curling in the pit of his stomach like a rattle snake; venomous and ready to strike at any second. His hands were balled into fists at his side, his knuckles bone white as he reminded himself that Andrew was the poster boy around here, the golden boy. If he did anything to him, if he laid a finger on that stupidly styled head of his he’d only give the people in Elkridge Hollow another reason to hate him. But god he’d love to do it. He’d love to grab at Andrew’s wrist with a vice like grip, prying the doctors hand from where it rested on his shoulder and slammed his head down onto the bar, pressing his face hard against the ornate wood. 

Touch me again, He wanted to tell him, And I’ll snap your fucking wrist. But Elliot only clenched his jaw, lips spreading into a thin line and kept his hands balled into fists at his side. Trez, Aly, hell even Hayden would probably hate him if he threw the first punch. That was why he had to make sure it was Andrew who was baited into making the first move. Elliot grabbed at Andrew’s hand, calloused fingers wrapping around his slender wrists with that vice like grip he had thought about using on him only seconds ago, and leaned into his ear, whispering with a dangerous edge to his voice, ❝ Or you’ll do what? ❞ 

Hayden shrugged. “I’m an artsy lesbian, we don’t concern ourselves with golf balls, and soft balls, and any other kind of ball-whacking. The only sport I excel in is muff diving,” she laughed as she stepped back and let Elliot throw darts. Okay, he clearly had more practice. “How many times do you come here and practice? Bullshit that comes naturally.” She shook her head as she took her turn. This time her darts were spread around the board – but she couldn’t hit the red or green if she tried. “You know what… this is because you’re like seven feet tall. That’s who I’m blaming this on. You.”

Elliot listened to her spiel about a lesbians lack of interest in balls and how she only excelled in muff diving with a reluctant smile on his face, a chuckle escaping his lips as he gave a rueful shake of his head. This was that he liked about Hayden; she was unapologetic about who she was and how bad she was at playing sports. It made him appreciate her friendship more. In a town full of people who would bake you a peach pie laced with arsenic, he’d quickly come to appreciate her honest nature. ❝ Or, ❞ Elliot began, retrieving each of their darts from the board, ❝ I just have this thing called eye-hand co-ordination. Ever heard of it? ❞ He asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. ❝ Six foot two, actually. ❞ He added with a careless shrug, not that he’d been measuring.

“Aw no way!” Silas’s face lit up as he pulled the old record from the ‘Used Soundtracks’ section. “I’ve been looking for this one!” He turned it over and read the track list on the back, smiling at the familiar titles. He started humming ‘Ghostbusters’ to himself as he continued to thumb through the G’s, tapping his foot along to the rhythm.

Elliot lifted hazel and honey coloured eyes from the record he had been giving the once over at the sound of a cheer, his head cocking to the side curiously.❝ What you got there? ❞ He asked the boy, gesturing towards the record in his face with his chin.

“I’m aware of what’s up around me.”, he scratched the back of his neck, looking around and then directly at Elliot, his eyes narrowing while sitting down far enough to put space between them but close enough so Elliot could hear him. “But I don’t understand why you’re so tense then, you look like you’re ready to fight me anytime or is that just your natural state? Then you wonder why I don’t want you around my sister.”, his tone was really calm in contrast to how he felt internally. He felt his insides burning. Few people got under his skin like the man standing in front of him. 

Of course Andrew knew, though he shouldn’t have been surprised, gossip spread around Elkridge Hollow like wildfire. Nothing ever stayed buried in this town for long. Even the dead. Or what ever those creepy, nightmare black eyed children had been. He suppressed a shudder, instead focusing on the distance Andrew had put between the two of them. He couldn’t help but chuckle, a look of amusement gleaming in his eyes.❝ If you don’t get why I think you’re the biggest tool in this town, then you probably won’t ever get it. ❞ Elliot said with a shrug, leaning his back against one of the wooden structures of the bar. ❝ Oh, now you care about her? ❞ Elliot made a scoffing noise, though it sounded more like bitter laughter. 

Officer, she corrected him mentally. And imagined herself doing it, asking him if he was acting erratic, flashing her light in his eyes til they pinned and gave her just cause. She could have him in the station in seconds, leave him in a cell until he was coming out of his fucking skin. And she’d ask him the thing she’d wanted to ask him since that night.  You saw a fifteen year old boy being attacked, and you did nothing. A boy was dying, and if you were too cowardly to help him…Why didn’t you at least scream? 

She didn’t want to win that way, but lord knows…She wanted to win.  ❝ Keep both eyes on the dartboard, Pierce. Wouldn’t want you hit twelve and see twenty. ❞

A rueful smile played on his lips, scoffing at Calliope’s words. ❝ Like you could do any better? ❞ He asked, arching a quizzical brow in her direction. Elliot wasn’t normally in the business of keeping the local police department company, unless he was spending the night in one of their cells, but he couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to challenge one. Especially one who so clearly had a disliking of him. Nothing new there then. 

Her neck hurt from looking at him, the size different really bothered her. It made her feel small, helpless. She couldn’t possible drag him out or make him speak on her own, not that she’d resort to violence for something so ordinary as answers. “Okay. So what about a deal? You answer my questions, I give you anything you want in return.”, she knew just how risky that sounded but Mr. Pierce wouldn’t go there, hopefully. “So you don’t think I’m trying to trap you or any of that shit. I just genuinely need answers and you’re the only one who can provide me with them.”

I give you anything you want in return. The words echoed inside of his head, enticing him into hearing the Detective out and answering her questions.❝ Anything? ❞ Elliot asked, the expression on his face a mixture of child like excitement and curiosity. There was a lot of things that Elliot wanted but only one thing sprung to mind — answers. ❝ Fine, but if I answer your questions then you’ve got to give me the answers to mine. I scratch your back and you scratch mine, yeah? ❞ Elliot glanced around the bar nervously, cautiously checking that nobody else was listening in on their conversation as he knew what he was about to ask of Natalia could probably put her job on the line. When he was convinced nobody was listening, he locked gazes with her and said, ❝ I want to read everything your department has on my mothers murder. ❞

Aly gripped the notes in her hand tightly, her eyes narrowing. There was a flash of anger that she couldn’t control. “You forgot the tip.” Her voice had changed, filled with a poison that only Elliot could get out of her. She didn’t have a right to be angry, she knew she didn’t. But he knew how to get a rise. “Charity case? Seriously? It’s fucking nachos, I’m not giving you a damn house.” She could feeling patrons near the bar beginning to stare and Aly gritted her teeth. “Fuck this.” She muttered before signalling to Trez that she was taking a smoke break. “Have fun with your next waitress. She might kick you on your ass, I know how you enjoy that.”

He’s overreacting, he’s damn sure of it. But he can’t help the feeling he gets under his skin now when he’s faced with her; it’s like sandpaper, rough and unforgiving against the delicate nerves inside his body. It hurts seeing her so mad at him, but he stomachs it because he has to, because she offered him another chance and he chose drugs over her. Again. She was bluffing, he had been sure of it. She’d threatened it many times before, they both had, but neither of them crossed the line. It was always empty threats and drunken ‘fuck yous’. Until it wasn’t, until she was telling him she needed to take care of herself for once and telling him to take a few days but he needed to find somewhere else to live. Elliot scoffed to himself as she signalled to Trez that she was leaving, his lips curling up into a snarl. ❝ Walk away, Al. It’s what you’re good at after all. ❞ He spat the words like venom; hoping they stung her as much as she had him.

“As fucking if, Pierce. I’m quite skilled with my hands, just ask any of your ex-girlfriends,” she bit back, jokingly of course. It wasn’t every night you got to play darts with your main pot-selling squeeze. She needed to force herself to have fun every now and then. When he said ladies first, she stood there for a moment looking at him. “Oh, sorry, I thought you said ladies first,” she teased him before setting herself up to throw the darts. Truth be told, she fulfilled a lot of lesbian stereotypes but sports was not one of them. When she threw her darts, they all gravitated toward the right side of the board, only hitting the black and white portion. Altogether she only scored 28 for her first visit. “I actually got it on the board this time so I consider that a win. Your turn.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, the last thing he wanted to do right now was think or speak about Aly, let alone think about Hayden’s hands exploring her body. Although that would have usually been arousing, leading to a crooked smirk and playful suggestion, but tonight he just wasn’t in the mood. ❝ Throw a damn dart already. ❞ Elliot scoffed, his retort laced with a playfulness that was reserved for the few people he could call his friends. He’d been dealing to Hayden for years, she never asked too many questions about his family like most people and she never seemed to care for what everybody else said about him. He appreciated that. Not enough to give her a friends and family rate like she often tried, but the sentiment was still there. ❝ Aren’t you supposed to be our big lesbian stereotype? I thought you were supposed to be naturally gifted at golf and darts. ❞ Elliot teased, stepping forward so he could take his place in front of the dart board. He threw the darts one after another, each hitting the dart board some what perfectly. ❝ We have very different ideas of what we consider a win. ❞ He said as he turned back to her, arching his brow.

“Well that would require you to be at least half as cool as either of them, which is just unrealistic,” Hayden teased as she turned around to look at him. She was bored sitting around the bar and not finding anyone who caught her interest. Had she finally slept with enough women in town to not find anyone at all? “You want to go for a round? Winner buys the other a drink.”

❝ Still cool enough to beat you, Scott. ❞ He said without an edge of cockiness to his voice, but simply just as a matter of fact. After all, the only times Elliot ever interacted with Hayden was either when she was looking to get high or already was high. He couldn’t work out which if tonight was the former or the latter. ❝ Sure thing, why not. ❞ Elliot said with a shrug, and with that he collected the darts from the board and dropped three into her hand. ❝ Ladies first. ❞ He gestured for her to step forwards as he stepped backwards, taking a sip from his pint of beer.

❝ Different movie, different players. ❞  Calli gestured between the two, her tone a sunlight surface of a much colder undercurrent. She didn’t like Elliot, hadn’t from the moment they’d interviewed him about a fifteen year old boy’s dead corpse. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way, and his story set off more alarms then it settled. But she didn’t have anything to fight him on, yet.  ❝ Different outcome. ❞

Elliot snorted, finding amusement in her words. Different outcome. How could she be so sure? There once quiet little town had turned into a murder ground for a supposed murderer, but the police department was grasping at straws and trying to keep the town from freaking out. Elliot knew this because he knew what was really behind the killings — or at least he knew it wasn’t the doings of a deranged man looking to spill some small town blood. ❝ If you say so, Detective. ❞

Aly just sighed, writing down the order on her notepad. She couldn’t expect him to treat her any different, she knew that. Break ups were supposed to be like that, you weren’t supposed to see the person again but… it was a goddamn small town, she didn’t have a choice. “Be right out soon.” Her voice was almost mechanical, it was her waitress voice. It didn’t take long before the plate of nachos was sitting in front of him, no sour cream or guacamole as he requested. “That’ll be fifteen…” Her voice trailed off before she switched. Elliot didn’t exactly have money coming from his fingertips. “It’s on the house. Enjoy.”

❝ I can pay for my own fucking nachos. ❞ Elliot glowered, reaching into his back pocket and pressing a few crumpled up five dollar bills into the palm of Alyssa’s hand.  ❝ I’m not a charity case. ❞ He knew she was just trying to do something nice for him, but he didn’t want her kindness and he certainly didn’t want hers or anybody else’s fucking charity. It was no secret that Elliot didn’t have much, but what he did have was all his and he’d be damned if he started letting his ex-fucking-girlfriend pay for his food. He wasn’t that pathetic, was he?

Andrew hadn’t realized he was standing in front of someone. “Uh, sorry, my bad.”, he turned and he was surprised to see Elliot. What were the odds that out of all people, it was him. “Should’ve figured it was you, by the fine manners.”, he gave the biggest fake smile in the world and stepped aside. “Good to see you in this wonderful afternoon, Elliot.”

Elliot didn’t quite believe his apology was sincere, not when it was coming from Alyssa’s brother, Andrew and definitely not when the apology was directed towards himself. Andrew loathed Elliot as much as he loathed him. He always thought he wasn’t good enough for his sister and Elliot always thought Boy Wonder needed to be knocked from his pedestal. Hazel coloured eyes narrowed on Andrew, his lips curling into a sneer. Elliot might have been a drug dealer, a trouble maker and all those other things people whispered about him when they thought he couldn’t hear them but at least he was always honest with people. If Elliot had a problem with somebody he didn’t hide behind fake smiles and forced pleasantries. He punched them in the face. ❝ I’m not dating your sister anymore, there’s no need for the idle chit chat. ❞

Natalia looked down at her watch while he spoke, arching a brow, pressing her lips together. She only spoke a few seconds after he was done. “Is poetry hour over?”, she didn’t smile while saying that. “Are you going to colaborate with me or do I have to drag you out of here? I’m starting to think that’s a kink of yours.”, she wasn’t sure how her small ass frame would manage to drag a whole 6′3 man out but she’d do it somehow. “Elliot, please.”, she remembered that one time she’d lost her composure with Gerald and how that’d gone. “I’m not trying to argue.”

Elliot scoffed in her direction, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at her. Why should he do anything she asked of him? Why the fuck should he do anything anybody in this shit hole of a town asked of him? What had anybody ever done for him? His father killed his mother, leaving him without not one but two parents. And to make matters worse he didn’t even leave him with a responsible guardian, he was left with an angry, bitter drunk Godmother who saw him as more of a burden than anything else. ❝ Unless you’ve got a warrant to bring me in for questioning I think I’m good where I am. ❞ His jaw set in a stubborn line and he wondered just where he got his stubbornness from sometimes, his mother or his father. Elliot wasn’t one for praying, but he’d pray to every religion if it meant he never turned out to be anything like his father.