Eli

“The Last Time I Held Him” I met Eli in the village library, hidden behind dusty shelves where no one ever went. He was fragile, reading about stars, and when I sat beside him, he didn’t ask me to leave. That quiet place became ours a refuge from the world’s cruelty. We lived in Shikami Death Hollow a village always wrapped in thick fog. People vanished without a trace. Others jumped from the cliffs to escape the nightmare. At school, we were bullied every day. Teachers didn’t care they just wanted to leave that awful village as soon as they could. Bruises and whispered insults piled up, but in that library, we found safety and love. Then my parents told me we were moving to California. They knew I was gay and accepted me fully but his parents didn’t they were toxic always name calling him, but my parents didn’t understand what I was leaving behind. Eli held me tight that last day, sobbing, hyperventilating whispering, “Please don’t leave me.” But I left him. California was bright and kind. My parents supported me, and for the first time, I felt safe. I sent Eli letters long ones filled with stories, photos of beaches, and a stuffed animal to hold when he felt afraid hoping he knew I never forgot him. But he never wrote back. Maybe his toxic parents hid my letters. Maybe he was angry or too broken to respond. One night, my parents were watching Japanese news. Eli’s house was on the screen, surrounded by police lights and yellow tape. They reported a boy had stabbed his parents in their sleep and vanished. I knew it was Eli. He was too gentle for that, but Shikami had broken us both. I remember the cliff beyond the shrine. He never spoke about it, but I saw the fear in his eyes whenever we passed it. Did he jump? Is he lost in the fog, alone? I live in warmth and light now, but he might still be trapped in darkness. The last time I held him, he cried so hard I didn’t wipe his tears because mine were falling too.