After Ace left, I went back to my cell and sat there in silence.
He had given me what I asked for—an answer. But it didn’t feel like peace.
It felt like the ground had fallen out from under me.
I had begged to know what happened to Elijah, and now that I knew,
all I felt was more alone.
Elijah was gone.
There was nothing more to hope for, nothing more to chase.
Just me and these walls. And that tight green suit.
And the kind of silence that doesn’t just surround you—it presses on you.
I laid back on that cold slab, arms folded across my chest like I was already dead.
No tears left. Just that ache behind the eyes that makes you want to disappear.
I kept thinking about how many times Elijah tried to tell me there was more.
More than pain. More than loss. More than what I could see.
And that’s when it happened—again.
But this time, it was different.
This time, I didn’t scream “bruh.”
I didn’t plead with “somebody.”
I looked up. At the ceiling. At the space above it.
Imagining the sky I couldn’t see but somehow still believed was there.
And for the first time, I used His name.
“God… please.
Send me somebody.
Or something.
I can’t do this by myself. I can’t.”
It wasn’t quiet.
It wasn’t graceful.
It was broken and loud and from the deepest place I didn’t even know existed.
I didn’t know if I was talking to the God Elijah always mentioned,
or just to the space above me hoping it held something.
But I meant it.
And for a moment… the silence felt different.
It didn’t feel like a wall anymore.
It felt like something was listening.
I closed my eyes. Still afraid. Still empty.
But now… a little less alone.