Page 37 of Drowned In Silence

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He leaves for what feels like eternity, letting my body adjust to the heat and helping the cramps lay off just enough for me to feel human again. When he comes back in, he’s holding a grocery bag full of stuff.

“Get out, Darling. I have what you need,” he says sweetly.

I get up, not because I want to, but my hands are turning into prunes anyway, plus I'm intrigued by what’s in the bag. Turning off the water, Elliot hands me the towel and steps back, letting me dry off.

“Now… I wasn’t sure what to buy you because I don’t know what you need, so I bought you a cup and some period underwear. I would have bought you tampons or pads, but I know those have chemicals in them, and I don’t want your cramps worse. There’s also some chocolate, some salty snacks, and some other random shit,” he tells me, backing out of the room.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whisper, new tears running down my cheeks. No one hasevertaken care of me. This is so new! This is so… weird. How can this killer stalker fuck be so fucking sweet to me, that he ran to the store in the middle of the night and bought me a bunch of shit? Where did he even find a store this early? What the fuck?!

He closes the door and leaves me to go through the bag and get partially dressed. I chose the panties. I don’t know how heavy this period will be, and I don’t really know how to use the cup. If push comes to shove, at least I have a little extra protection.

Lockboxes & Secrets

Elliot

When Dynah finally cameout of the bathroom, I handed her a new pair of shorts and a large hoodie so she could curl up into it. After she fell asleep, I got out of bed and started my morning. I made some coffee, sat on the porch for a little while, and then Spencer woke up. I want to ask him about the phone call, but tensions already seem high and I’m not sure I feel like confrontation today.

“Morning,” he says, walking into the kitchen. I’m sitting on a barstool, checking my emails on my phone, and waiting for the day to start.

“Morning.”

“I heard you leave the house early this morning, but I also heard the shower running. Everything good?” He asks, pouring his cup.

“Yeah, just… feminine issues. I had to go to the store. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” he replies. Sinking down onto the stool next to me.

We sip our coffee in peace for a while, before he stands up and heads to the fridge.

“Shit,” he mumbles.

“What?”

He turns around and shrugs. “I have to go shopping today. Are you cool with that? Or do you guys wanna go?”

“I wanna stay here and die, thanks though,” Dynah mumbles, practically crawling out of the room.

“There’s your answer,” I chuckle. There is no way that I will leave Dynah here alone while me and Spencer go to the store. Fuck, I don’t even want to leave Spencer with her whileI go.“We’ll stay, you go ahead.”

“Okay,” he says, grabbing his keys and wallet from his room. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. Anything specific?”

“I’m alright,” Dynah answers from her new spot on the couch. She is once again curled into a ball with a pillow between her stomach and her legs. “I’m going to die right here, you can go do whatever.”

He chuckles and I roll my eyes. He’s always so unserious about shit, this isn’t a joking manner. She’s obviously in a lot of pain. I send him a short text while he walks out of the door, asking for some Midol and maybe some more chocolate.

Once he leaves, I check on Dynah who is now passed out on the couch. She’s in pain and there is nothing I can do to help. I mean, I’ve heard orgasms can help, but I’m not trying to go near her this soon into whatever relationship thing this is. I don’t want to lose a hand… Or my dick.

I decide to spend my time snooping through Spencer’s shit. He left the house and I am still concerned over what I heard on the phone. Why would him and Mom be keepingsecrets from me? I want answers to my question, and the only way I can do that is if I find something to help. Unless I want to call him out on his phone call, but I just don’t feel like it.

Walking into his room, I notice how disheveled it looks. Clothes are strewn everywhere, a wet towel hangs on the back of the chair, and his blanket is in a heap on top of his mattress. What has he been doing in here? I walk carefully further into the room and see the closet door ajar.

If I was hiding anything, it would be under the mattress or in the closet. I swing the door open, pushing the clothes out of the way and I flip on the lightswitch that sits outside the door. Looking up, I see it. A small fireproof lockbox.

“What are you up to, Pen?” I say to no one. Pulling the box off the shelf into my hands, I turn around and sit on the edge of his bed. Unsurprisingly it’s locked, but that's alright. I’ve spent many years learning how to pick locks and sneaking into places I shouldn’t be. I carry the box with me and out of his room. I know my pick set is in the bathroom, why? I don’t know, but that seemed like a decent spot for it.

I grab the set, placing the box on the counter and letting it perch precariously on the edge. Picking a lock takes time and gentle touches, a certain amount of finesse for the project ahead. Within ten minutes, I pop the lock open and let out a large sigh.

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