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“I told her to.” She shrinks under the weight of shame, waiting to be condemned.

“So,” I state simply. I brush the tears from her cheeks. “It was her pain, not yours, that made her do it.”

“But I wish.” Emma falters. “I wish she were dead. Then maybe she’d stop hurting and stop hurting me.” The cleansing tears keep coming. “That’s so horrible. I’m so—”

I ease her head onto my shoulder and rub her back. “No. She hurt you, Emma, over and over again. You can let her go now. Don’t let her hurt you anymore.”

Emma leans into me, and I pull her into a hug. Her chest shudders against mine, her breath pants against my neck until she can blow it all away and find calm again.

When she lifts her head, her eyes still shimmer with tears. There’s a question there, asking for understanding. For the same acceptance I’ve been seeking.

I set my hands on her cheeks, brushing the tears with my thumb. She doesn’t move away, only continues to search my eyes for answers I don’t have. I press my lips against hers, and she relaxes into me.

As if woken by a clap of thunder, Emma bolts to her feet.

“I can’t.”

Have I been reading this all wrong?

“I don’t understand.” The intensity in her eyes when she stares a little too long. The way her body responds to me when we get close. Her inability to move away when I lean in.

I’m not wrong.

Emma brushes away fresh tears and shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“You should ask yourself why you can’t, Emma?” I stare out the window, my mind whirling with all the pieces that seem to fit together. Except she’s too afraid to admit it. “Is it because you don’t feel it? You’re here, so you must feel something. You can’t deny that, no matter how hard you try.”

She keeps shaking her head, like somehow she can convince herself otherwise. The confusion crumpling her brow lets me know that I’m right. There is something here. But it’s clouded by guilt.

“You’ve been through a lot in the past week,” I utter quietly, peering into her pained golden-brown eyes. It's still not the time to figure this out, whatever this is. “So you should just wait. Wait until everything settles. Okay?”

Emma’s gaze flickers—uncertain how to respond.

“We have this connection, and it’s crazy.” I decide to lay it out. Admitting what I’ve known for a while now. “I don’t know how to give it up, do you?”

She shakes her head.

Good. I’m not ready to give her up.

“It’s going to be okay, Emma, I promise. We’ll figure this out.”

“Okay,” Emma rasps. “I should go.”

“I know.”

Before she leaves, she turns to face me. “Jonathan, thank you… for understanding.”

“I’m always here for you, Emma,” I remind her with a small smile. And then I watch her disappear… again. One of these times, I’m afraid she won’t come back.

Me: You asked why I stayed when I had every reason to leave—I stayed for you. I was drawn to you almost instantly without really understanding what was happening. I will always be here for you, Emma.

Big yellow eyes twinkle up at me with a smile full of sharp teeth. I brush a hand over the purple fur, not nearly as happy. I squeeze my little friend to my chest where my heart used to be. This little thing—a gift exchanged in the woods between a sad boy and a silly girl sixteen years ago—was so important to that boy that he returned to hell to retrieve it from where he’d hidden it between his bed and the wall.

I nearly lost him that day. A part of him never truly returned to me, trapped in the dark place he disappeared into each night.

I’ve been waiting for him to come back to me. He’s chosen to move further away instead. Gave a piece of himself to another girl. I’m not sure he’ll ever return or if I’ll recognize him if he does.

Today, I choose me. Heartless and empty. But I still have a reason to keep moving forward. A purpose that’s calling to me.