3. Abel

Elise standswith her back to me, hands digging through her purse on the kitchen counter. When she turns around, she has money in her hand, holding it out toward me. “For whatever you need or want. Peris will drive you.”

I balk.

“Excuse me? I’ll do what now?” he calls from somewhere in the adjoined living room.

“You’ll take Abel to go shopping! Clothes, books, whatever he needs,” she says to Peris, but her eyes never leave mine—gentle and willful.

It makes me sick.

My hands tremble at my sides.

Elise reaches down, eyes bouncing between mine, looking for any signs of protest before she grabs my hand and raises it, placing the money against my palm. I blink down at it. The fucking wad of cash she just put in my hand.

“Doc, I can’t?—”

“You can, and you will. You deserve to have some clothes, honey. And even some stuff that isn’t a necessity.” I swallow the bile burning my esophagus. No one is this nice. This good. I’m certainly not.

She’s gotta know I’m not.

And with what I’m doing to her son…

“I’ll pay you back,” I rasp, keeping my head lowered in shame. Jesus, I wasn’t prepared for this. I thought being here would be my reprieve from it, but I have to pay her back, which means?—

She tuts, slicing through my internal slew. “Oh, don’t you worry about that.”

I glance up, forcing myself to look at her. “I have to.”

Elise’s smile fades, eyes darting to the bruises on my face, my eye which is surprisingly less swollen today—probably because of the ice she keeps telling me to put on it—but still pretty gnarly.

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” I nod slightly. “But for now, go on and get what you need. We’ve got necessities here. Toothbrush, toothpaste, extra brushes—which I know Peris already got for you—but I’m not sure what else you’d like, and you’re old enough to decide for yourself, so I want you to. Whatever it is.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Peris says at my back.

“It’s just enough,” Elise counters with a smile. “Take him where he needs, okay?”

Heat radiates from his skin, inches from mine. “Sure, Ma.” Even I can hear the sarcasm.

Elise lifts a brow but doesn’t comment on it. “Good. I’m working the day shift today, but tomorrow, it’s back to the usual,” she tells us as she swings her bag over her shoulder. I shove my hands in the pockets of my baggy jeans, feeling the belt bite into the skin at my waist.

“Sounds good,” Peris drawls.

“Have fun, boys!” she calls as she walks out the door, clad in another pair of blue scrubs. Once the door thuds shut behind her, the silence becomes deafening.

Peris is still poised at my back, all heat and exasperation. Every muscle is tense, ready for a strike. I steady my breaths, pulling them in slowly—gently—easing the strain on my compressed ribcage.

“Where am I taking you?” is all he says.

As I turn, his eyes flick up to the silver bar through the bridge of my nose. “Where do you wanna take me?”

Peris sighs, sounding utterly exhausted as he digs his fingers into his eye sockets. “I’m not in the mood, Abel. My mom asked me to take you wherever, so where do you want to go?”

“And you just do everything she asks you to do? Even if it’s something for me?”

His stare is blank, then he disappears down the hall, coming back a minute later with a hoodie on and keys jingling in his hand. “I’m getting in my car. If you’re not in by the time I pull out, I’m leaving you here. I’m not playing your fucking games.” Peris slams the door behind him, rattling it in its frame, leaving me to stare at his vacancy.

My shoes dig into the soft, worn carpet, the stained pink canvas a distressing contrast. I flex my toes, feeling the textured plastic on the bottom. And then, I sigh, puffing the breath out heavily between my lips before opening the door and following Peris’s deserted footsteps.

I sort of expected the door to be locked when I pulled on the handle, but it opens easily, and I’m immediately enveloped in his scent, followed by the lingering traces of sweat and musk—probably from basketball.

The car is older with fabric seats and a worn, cracked dash. But it’s clean, and it’s his very own car, which honestly blows me away. It never really crossed my mind, how someone my age could have their own car—which is ridiculous because I’m an adult for fucks sake, but it’s not like that matters. It’s all about the paperwork.

“Nice car,” I say softly as he shifts into reverse.

He scoffs. “Yeah. Put your seatbelt on.” I do as I’m told, latching the buckle, eyes never straying from the side of his face as he drives down the road, heavy rap music thumping through the speakers.