Somewhere in Between by Lynnette Brisia Page A

her stepmom. But still, he wanted to scream. And with Christie beating at him, unaware and completely content with her life, he was prepared to snap.
    "And maybe she's not answering because her phone is dead or she's busy. And maybe Leigh isn't answering because of a number of reasons. I'm not her keeper, talk to Trent about her if you're so concerned about her." He could see Christie was ready to come back at him with something, but he wouldn't let her have this moment, even if this was the first time they'd ever spoken so hostile to one another. "The whole world does not revolve around you, you know. Not all of us are like Josh, willing to do whatever it is your highness wants."
    "You son of a bitch. I'm telling mom how much of an asshole you've been," Christie screamed before running off, shrieking for their mother.
    He just slammed the door and fell against it. He knew he shouldn't have yelled at his sister like he had, but after so long of her attacking him, even if it was partly justifiable, and after having to watch his best friend suffer so horribly, he just didn't care about Christie's feelings in that moment. With a grunt, Elliot pushed against his door and stumbled toward his bathroom. He'd shower first, and then he'd call Gemma because in that moment, his heart ached and he desperately needed to hear her voice. He desperately needed to know she was okay. At least physically.
    Stripping off his button-up shirt and pulling his undershirt off, Elliot quickly undid his pants, pulling away his boxers and socks too. He turned the dial to nearly scalding and stepped inside the stall. With the water pouring over his tired limbs, he closed his eyes and dropped his head. As he spied his softened shaft through slit eyes, an errant thought flitted through his mind, which nearly made him laugh. For all the time he spent drooling over Trisha, he'd never once fantasized about really being with her. Sure, just like every other teenaged male he imagined the perfect woman, his fantasy having large breasts with a round bottom attached to a curvy waist designed for gripping, and golden skin and long flowing hair he’d like to tug on. He even masturbated to those images. But not once did he try to picture what Trisha looked like. Not once was she the star of his lustful dreams. And from how she looked every day at school, with her…proportions on the smaller side, and her pale skin complimenting her platinum blond hair, his fantasy woman Trisha was not. That should have been a clue to him, but like his aunt had said, he was a stupid boy.
    It was at the realization that he was actually losing that stupidity that he began to cry, his tears mixing with the water. Beautiful Gemma, his best friend, so broken and scared, one night had destroyed not only her innocence, but his as well. He would never see the world the same. He would never feel the same. He wanted so badly to help her, to fix her, but he didn't know how. He would never be able to un-see her fear. He would never been able to un-feel her terror. He wished more than anything that he could get a time machine and change the night before.
    Turning the water off, he grabbed a towel and dried his body quickly. He pulled sweats on, not wanting to work any harder for clothes. Stepping into his bedroom, he moved to his phone and dialed Gemma's number. It rang once and then her voicemail clicked on. He waited for her sweet voice to tell him she'd return the call and the following beep before he spoke, "Hey Gemma. It's me. Just calling to check on you. Please call me back when you can. Okay, talk to you soon." He wished he'd been able to speak to her. He needed to hear her voice, to know she was safe because he felt so helpless.
    A knock and the stern voice at his bedroom door told him there was nothing he could do for the time being. "I'll be right out," he replied to his father's angry tone. He knew Gemma didn't want anyone to know, but he needed help just as much as she did right