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I’m Elliot Eaton.
Second in line to the Eaton empire.
The powerful son of Johnathon and Julia Eaton.
Grandson of John Eaton.
A bitter laugh spills from my lips.
No fucking pressure, right?
Since the day I was born, every set of eyes in this town have been on me.
The only person more under the spotlight than me is Scott.
A place that he just fucking loves to be.
Any chance he gets to look better than me. Or more so, make me look worse he jumps on without a second thought.
He’s the oldest. The true heir.
He’s good at it too. A cold-blooded, sadistic fuck just like our father.
I bet he hasn’t had a day in his life where he’s second-guessed his place in the world, his position in his town, and the weight that comes with it. Let alone lose himself to the pressure. To the knowledge that no matter what, you’re just never going to be good enough. Never going to stand up to the impossible expectations placed on your head.
But I guess you don’t have to worry when you’re the family’s Golden Boy.
My fists curl at my side, my nails digging into my palms until just a bite of pain shoots up my arms.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I try not to think about how Abigail would have felt as that shard of glass pierced her skin. How strong the relief would have been as the first drop of blood spilled free and ran down her porcelain skin.
My mouth waters as a craving I haven’t succumbed to for a long-time surges back full force.
I focus on my breathing, forcing myself to think about the here and now.
I’ve got her here.
She’s in my bed.
Suffering.
Hurting so badly that she’s causing herself physical pain to try and deal with it.
I’ve felt pretty fucking useless most of my life. But I can honestly say that I’ve never felt more out of my depth than I do right now.
Previously, I’ve been letting down my parents. Scott. Myself.I can deal with that. It’s pretty fucking normal, if I’m being honest with myself.
But I can’t let her down.
The girls trust me to keep her safe. And I’ve already failed.
Maybe if I’d acted sooner.Brought her back here when I first saw her in that shower, drowning in her own grief.
Maybe…
Maybe…
Maybe…
