“I’m going to see Dad over summer break. Want to come with?” Jerrica asks me in the morning.

“Will Mom even let me?”

Jerrica rolls her eyes. “You’re not in a prison, Ems. I already asked her, said it’s fine.”

“Then yeah, I’ll go. I won’t miss Gracie’s big 15 birthday party now.”

“Can I come?”

“Sure.”

“So, what are you heading off to this fine Saturday morning?

-

Soran is unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Even if he’s just a year older than me, he doesn’t act like it. He carries himself well. Every word he says is with purpose. Soran has shown me what or who a man is supposed to be. There is no questioning or wondering of what his intentions are. They’re all so clear.

He’s not a headfuck.

I, however, am.

It’s made crystal by how I act around him. I feel like such a little girl; so immature. We’ve been spending a lot of time together since that night. I’ve gotten to know him a lot better because of it. I always thought he was far out of my league just by the way he acts. Like how I once thought, he seemed so confident and intimidating to ever talk to; someone who thinks they’re better than everyone else. The only true thing about that is his confidence.

Soran has only asked once if I liked him. I dodged the question and he hasn’t asked since. His intentions are clear. He spends time with me because he doesn’t mind my company. I might not know everything about the things he talks about, but he doesn’t mind explaining things to me if I ask. He’s patient, kind, and a natural leader.

I’m nothing compared to him, yet he still finds me attractive. Soran wants me to be his girlfriend.

“Have you ever been to a Barcade?” He asks in his still intoxicating Middle East and mixed Russian accent. “That’s where we’re going tonight.”

“I’m not 21 yet,” I answer with his hand joined with mine.

We’re walking out of Central Park, finishing my nightly routine of walking around it. Soran’s been joining me more and more often yet refuses to call them dates. Wherever we’re going tonight, that’ll be our tenth.

We haven’t even kissed yet.

“That’s alright, the owner is a good friend of mine,” he says while signaling for a taxi.

“And here I thought you were against being privileged,” I joke.

“I never said that. I said that I don’t let it define me, as you shouldn’t either.”

A car that isn’t yellow pulls up but rather a silver Sedan with a U sticker on the windshield. “That’s not a taxi.”

“My father recently invested in a ridesharing company called Uber. It’s much cheaper than taxis.”

“Rich people,” I sigh as Soran opens the door for me.

“Don’t josh me, Emily, desire is not a good look on me,” he chuckles when he gets in from the other side.

Everyone I ever met has learned to call me by my nickname. For whatever reason, Soran is the only one who still doesn’t.

“Yeah you’re right, my lips would be better,” I say like I have the balls to kiss him. Ten dates and he hasn’t kissed me either. I’m starting to think he’s just waiting for me to make the first move.

Or maybe he’s much shyer than he shows. I get my answer regardless when he says, “Not until I get the answer I’ve been searching for.”

Right, I forgot who I’m talking to. Soran doesn’t repeat himself. He wants me to admit to him that I share the same feelings he has. I’m not sure if that’s controlling or if he’s just that confident. Either way, it’s so hot. He doesn’t ask, just does.

The Barcade is just like every other date we had just with drinks included this time. Soran might act, talk and appear much more mature than his age, but he throws all that away when we play our dumb little arcade games.

Another thing I have up on him is how well I hold my liquor. I’m a product of Darkwood. It takes a lot, something Soran never believed until I start to outdrink him. He cuts himself off when he feels himself getting drunk. Several drinks later, I just grin at him when I finish what he couldn’t.

“Wow, where does it all go?” he says as if he’s impressed but deep down it just makes me insecure. This isn’t how a girl is supposed to act.

Fuck, where did that thought come from?

I’ve never conformed to gender norms. I follow them, but I never once thought that’s how I should act. I always did what I wanted regardless of what the norms were. Sometimes they just happened to aline with my interests, sometimes they didn’t. That’s how I have always been. I’m not the one to wear revealing dresses and cute girly outfits so I could get the attention of others. I like oversized jackets and sweats, bell-bottom jeans, skirts, and boots. Hell, I wear overalls, flannels, and skater shoes at times.

Who have I been becoming since moving here?

Soran smiles, “doubting yourself again?”

Once again I question if he can read minds or not.

“Don’t, you’re fine just the way you are,” he says before I can answer. His speech is a bit jarred. The boy’s drunk while I’m barely tipsy. “Fiiiine the way you are,” he says, elongating fine this time.

“Can you read my mind?”

“No,” he sits upright from the bar counter. “You give yourself away too easily.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Nobody has told you?”

“No.”

“Then let me be the first,” he laughs. “Or maybe just around me, I’m not sure yet.”

I know I don’t act like myself around him, that much is obvious. If my facial expression is that easy to read, I wonder just how much I’ve given away to everyone else. Then that would mean…

“I would like to hear what’s on your mind.”

“Remember when I told you about Elizabeth? How we all felt guilty for her death and how I thought she was jealous of me, driving her mad?”

“Of course.”

“What if those thoughts are true then? I used to hate her for stealing my spotlight in the group. She became the center of attention so quickly that it left me bitter. Maybe Ellie knew all along. It wasn’t her that was jealous, it was me. She knew all along and took everything to spite me.”

“Now what good does that line of thinking do?”

“Wha-”

“There is no point in mulling over the past, Emily.”

“But it was my jealous that tried to pull her away from-”

“Is there anything you can do about it now?”

“Well no, but-”

“You are not responsible for the decisions of others,” Soran takes hold of my hand, gently cupping it against my heart. “Just as you are not responsible for her death,” he whispers and it calms me. “The dead don’t speak,” he says.

The dead don’t speak.

Soran’s right. There’s no point in thinking about it anymore. Elizabeth did what she did. It doesn’t matter why. Nobody will ever get their closure and that’s okay. We all played a part in her death. Andrew gave her the drugs. Sara showed her that they're fun. Cody headfucked her into madness. I made her jealous enough to start the spiral. And Chris stood by and let it all happen probably knowing where it was all heading.

And no one suffered more than the innocence of Grace.

Soran drops me off in front of my townhome. The date went well but I got lost in my negative thoughts. I’m sure it shows even though I try to hide it the best I can.

He grabs hold of my hands and pulls me into him. At first, I think, this is it, this is where we kiss. But we don’t. He wraps my arms around his body, giving me a hug I so desperately need.

“You’ll be alright. You just need to find yourself,” he says.

“Most guys wouldn’t bother at this point. They would just leave.”

Soran chuckles, “Clearly they haven’t met you yet.”

“What’s so special about me?”

“Nothing.”

My head rests exactly where his heart would be. It beats calmly. It’s not raised like mine. When his words register, mine start to slow. I’ve never been told that before. I’ve always been special, everyone says so. It’s what makes me, me. That’s never been the case has it? That’s just what I always wanted to hear.

Nobody in the entire world has been real to me.

“That’s why I can wait. That’s why I don’t mind giving you time. It’s why I’ve been falling in love with you.”

Love.

Love.

Love.

“Soran, do you want to come inside?”

I feel his head shake, “Not until you are ready, Emily.”

I think I finally understand what C-

I understand what it means when dead dont speak.

In the distance, I hear thunder strike. It’s not raining, the skies are clear and it hasn’t even come close to being cloudy in a few days. And yet, the loud roar of its power still reach my ears.

I’m not resposible for Elizabeth’s death. It’s not my guilt to bear. I can’t take back the actions that she did. I can’t go on searching for answers. I’m not that person. I’m not special. I’m too insecure, too weak, and have too many flaws to count. I’ve always been and will be human. This entire time I thought I was living as the main character of my little world, but that’s never been the case, has it?”

If I were, I could just ask Elizbeth.

But the dead don’t speak.

They’re too busy screaming.