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The Innocent Relapse


I woke up the next morning. I already felt older and more damned. I got up and stumbled over to the mirror. The slight color in my face. They brightness of my eyes. The visible sign that my hair was indeed growing back a bit. Although these signs were probably just reporting the first good night of sleep in years, my pessimism was more likely to believe they had something to do with the day at hand. I tried my hardest to remember last night and the moments before sleep. What time had it been? Where was I lying? But the only image plastering itself on the edges of my brain was the sight of the books aligned on my shelf. The missing gap I had noticed in my last seconds of consciousness.

I turned away from my mirror and jumped over my bed. Carefully and quickly, I began to examine the bookshelf for the same illustration in my mind.

But now, the white journals were there. Their usual harsh contrast with my dark bookshelf now seemed unwelcoming only because it was so starkly different from my expectation. I knew I was crazy, but I wasn’t that crazy. I tried to ignore my suspicions though, pulling on my clothes and making my way downstairs.

In the kitchen, I grabbed my coffee mug from the cabinet and turned around toward the coffee maker. I stopped short though as a mess of color reflected back at me. On the stove sat a cake with colors of red, blue, green, and yellow. [i]“Have a great day Gerard!”[/i] it read in big cursive letters that looked like Mom’s work. I smiled, taking note of how thankful I really was for her. I filled my coffee cup and took to my car.

“Hello, Gerard!” Justine smiled as I came into the office.

“Hey,” I winced at the anticipation of the next line.

“Happy birthday!”

The phrase hit hard despite my defenses. It was the first of hopefully not many birthday wishes. “Thanks!” I tried to smile but I could feel the muscles in my face shifting into a grimace against my will. I tried to walk quickly to Elliot’s office to avoid the questions I saw behind her eyes.

I worked hard and tried to lose myself in the names and cases. I didn’t want to think about the journals or my birthday or the worst realization; that I hadn’t even got to talk to you yet.

“Birthday boy!” Elliot’s voice boomed against the wood panel walls and rang in my ears, awaking me from my train of thoughts.

“Hey, Elliot,” I mumbled, half heartedly.

“So, how’d you sleep last night?” Elliot smiled as he plopped down in his arm chair.

“Much better, thank you,” I got up, facing him.

“You seem a little glum, Mr. Adultpants,” Elliot eyes looked quizzically at me.

I glared at the name he was addressed me with. “I’m just not totally jazzed about turning eighteen.”

Elliot sighed. “And why not?”

I bit my lip at his question.

“You know why,” Elliot said. “Tell me.”

I took a seat on the couch. “It’s just. At… Reynard’s they wouldn’t stop telling me about how being eighteen meant that now I had to take my own responsibility for everything I do. I can’t blame my sins on culture or my rebellious nature or bad parenting. Does that make sense?”

“So,” Elliot began. “Adults are perfect. And now that you are one, you have to be perfect. No second chances.”
I let out a sigh. “Why do you make it sound so ridiculous?”

Elliot laughed, “Because it is! Come on. You think adults are perfect? More perfect than children? Cause I got news for you. No one is perfect. Especially not adults. They are horrible creatures. They have the worst habits and interests and tendencies. Just.... anything but perfect.”

“Well most of their [i]tendencies[/i]aren’t illegal for them to have,” I whispered.

“Well,” Elliot cooed. “I would hardly call love a tendency.”

I felt my blood began to boil as I felt he wasn’t taking me seriously. “You just… don’t get it.”

Elliot didn’t take in the comment much. He glanced around the room, pursing his lips, like he was planning the words he’d say next. “You know,” he began, still looking away from me, “There is one thing you can do when you’re 18.” His tone was optimistic and he wanted to draw me in. I was falling for it.

“What are you getting at?” I asked a bit skeptical, but more curious about his sudden change in demeanor.

“Gerard,” he looked back to me. His eyes were so serious, but instead of pushing me away, it drew me closer. “I’m trying to make a case.”

My brain was left fizzing. Half silent from my urge to know, half running with possible meanings.

“A case against Reynard’s.”

My face fell flat and the sudden roller coaster of anticipation went off course. “No,” I said simply. Feeling the black cloud of anger growing above my head.

“Gerard,” Elliot’s voice started to plead. It was the first time I ever heard him beg. “Listen to me. Reynard’s did a lot of illegal, unconstitutional things. You could help blow the lid off that place. You could put Klause behind bars for a long time. You could make sure that no boy is ever subject to those things again.

My lungs were slowly compressing, as were my fingers into tight, angry fists. “I said no.”

Elliot ignored me again. He got up from his chair, crossing the room towards his desk. Unlocking the top drawer with a key that came out of no where. “We have others. They’ve all signed on and gave us all there files. We have former alumni, workers, parents, and others. We are so close to having a case, Gerard. But we need you. You were there for two years. You studied under Klause. You know more about that place than anyone!”

He threw a mess of manila folders into my lap. Names and numbers printed on the front. I fingered through a couple of them, but they felt like dirty laundry in my hands. I searched desperately through the names. Half expecting to recognize one of them. As I came to the bottom of the pile, I saw one. [i]Way, Gerard.[/i] The big, black block letters burned holes in retinas. I bit my lip, considering if I should open it. But my hands worked before my brain could process the request and it was open in my lap. All I saw where pages of legal papers, bulleted notes. All in scribbled Elliot’s handwriting. I felt my fingers mindlessly flipping through them as if they knew there was something else. Towards the end of the stack, I saw it.

[b]Reynard’s School for Boys Means New Beginnings for a New Generation.[/b]

A torn article. The edge all ripped and soft. The paper was wrinkled itself. And clear as day, there I was. My picture from graduation. My uneven hair, my pale skin, my lackadaisical eyes.

Elliot’s hands ripped the files away from me. The article, the notes, and my face were all gone, but it still burned in my mind. I looked up and saw him reshuffling the papers and putting them back in the locked drawer.

“What was that?” I asked, terrified to know.

“Nothing,” Elliot shuffled away from the desk and towards his chair.

I stood up and over him, feeling the fear sinking into the fierce aggression. “Elliot. Tell me what it is!” I shouted.

Elliot sighed hard. Refusing to look at me. “They did an article about you in the university science newsletter. It’s where I graduated from so I get it bimonthly.”

The anger under my skin tingled all of my fingers and toes. “That’s why you hired me,” I whispered as the realization came to light. “Only after you saw me face to face. Only once you realized I was boy from the article. How lucky were you to find me, right? So I could be another witness in your stupid case.”

Elliot shook his head. “That’s ridiculous. I didn’t even think about opening a case till after I hired you.”

“Oh,” I felt my vocal cords rubbing together too fiercely and my voice ringing in my ears, “well, I am so happy I sparked the idea for you.” My sneer so sarcastic.

“Why are you so offended? I saw you, Gerard. I saw you so hurt by what Reynard’s had done to you. I saw how it was affecting everything in your life and displacing you socially. I knew there were more boys like you out there. I knew that we had to fight against this. You could be part of something huge. Why don’t you see that?”

“I’m not your subject. I’m not your experiment. I’m not your evidence,” I felt so overwhelmed.

“Gerard, please,” Elliot tried to calm me down.

“No. No I’m…” my brain felt like it was running on a broken engine, but maybe it was just a broken heart. “I’m going. Good luck with your fucking case.”

I ran out of his office, foregoing the golden elevator for the much speedier
stairs. I ran down each flight, almost jumping to get away.

But the further I got down the stair well, the heavier my heart grew and the harder it was to breathe. I felt myself sink down the cement wall, my lungs threatening to collapse. I held onto the cold metal railing for support as I finally came to a stop. I crouched down and felt the tears pouring out of my eyes, hard and empty.


ok so just finished reading this in one day. this plotttttttttrtrttttttt

This is the best fan fic I've ever read. It has a very unique story line and I love it dearly. I'm sure it would get better if iT WAS EVER UPDATED!

waycestislife waycestislife

I have the distinct feeling I'm not getting the end of this.

Please update? Just read all 47 chapters in one go, need more! X

NOOOOOOOOOOO you can't just leave it like that.One thing I can't stand the most is cliffhangers!!!!!
please update soon