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#12: I Want To Take You Somewhere
Petsa ng paglalathala:
2026-05-02 18:07:43
Pinakabagong kabanata
SIR #13: I Choose Us
The street market is a world I did not know existed and I’m annoyed at myself for not knowing it existed because it’s truly extraordinary.It runs two full blocks, dense and colorful and loud in the way that is interesting rather than overwhelming, with stalls selling everything from secondhand books to handmade jewelry to food that smells so good I make an actual involuntary sound when we walk past one particular corner. Eli buys me something fried and wrapped in paper from a stall run by an old man who Eli calls tiger for some reason. “How does he know you?” I ask, unwrapping the paper, and whatever is inside is so good I immediately stop forming other thoughts.“I’ve been coming here since I was twelve,” Eli says, in the easy way he talks about his neighborhood, matter-of-fact and without the self-consciousness that comes from people who mistake simplicity for something to be embarrassed about.I ask him things and he answers them, he doesn’t seem to get tire
SIR #12: I Want To Take You Somewhere
My father delivers the news the way he delivers all news he knows I won’t like, which is calmly, over breakfast, while my mother does the thing where she’s very interested in her orange juice.“This year’s birthday will be a family dinner,” he says in the tone that is not a discussion opener. “Given recent events, a large gathering is too much of a security risk.”I put my fork down. I pick it up again. I put it down. “It’s my eighteenth birthday,” I say.“Yes.”“My eighteenth.”“I heard you the first time, Lucia.”“Dad.” I say his name with every ounce of reasonable, measured maturity I have ever possessed, which is being assembled from scratch in real time. “I have been planning this since I was fifteen. The dress is bought. The venue deposit is paid. The invitations went out three weeks ago.”“We’ll cover the deposit,” he says, and turns a page of his newspaper.“It’s not about the deposit!”“Language,” he says mildly, to the newspaper.“I didn’t say anything.”“You were about to.”
SIR #11: For Your Father
Elias’s POVHis mother cried when he told her.Not sad crying. The other kind, the kind that comes from a place past hope, when something you stopped believing was possible suddenly becomes real and your body doesn’t have a clean response for it. She sat at the kitchen table and put her face in her hands and her shoulders shook as Eli stood across from her.“Elias,” she said, when she could finally speak again. “Do you understand what this means?”“It means we can cover the medication through the end of the year,” he said, because that was what it meant to him, the most immediate and concrete thing.She looked up at him with red eyes and a kind of brightness in her face that he hadn’t seen in years, not the soft, tired warmth she sometimes managed on good mornings, but something fierce and electric and almost frightening in its intensity.“It means we’ve got them,” she said. “It means we finally have someone on the inside.”She picked up her phone before he could say anything else. As
SIR #10: Old Debts
The first thing I see when I walk into the kitchen Monday morning is Eli at my family’s breakfast table, sittng where Zeke used to seat, and eating Maria’s rosemary bread. The second thing I see is my eleven-year-old brother Lucas sitting directly across from him, leaning forward with both elbows on the table and the expression he gets during particularly riveting episodes of whatever documentary series he’s currently obsessed with, which apparently this morning is Elias Arden in the flesh. “But what’s the difference between a hook and a cross?” Lucas is saying, with the intensity of someone who needs this answered before they can continue with their day. “Setup versus power,” Eli says, and he gestures with his fork in a way that somehow communicates the mechanics of it. “Hook comes from the side, shorter range, more snap. Cross goes straight with full rotation behind it, that’s where the real damage is.” “Which one did you use on those guys in the alley?” “Lucas,” I say, from th
SIR #9. Call Me David
Eli’s POV The numbers won’t change no matter how many times he looks at them. This is a thing Eli has known since he was old enough to understand what numbers meant, that staring at them longer doesn’t produce different results, that the math is the math and wishing it were otherwise is a luxury that costs more than he has. He knows this. He still opens the banking app and closes it and opens it again, because the alternative is sitting at the kitchen table at seven in the morning with nothing to do but listen to the apartment breathe. He lays it out the way he does every two weeks, Notepad, pen, phone face-up for the calculator. Rent on the left column. Utilities. Groceries, estimated. His mother’s kidney medication, which is not estimated because it doesn’t vary and cannot be reduced and is, by itself, more than their combined food costs for the month. Then a gap for the boxing money on the right column, which should be there and isn’t, because last night he didn’t make it to
SIR #8: Hoping And Praying
I sit very still for approximately four seconds, which is the amount of time it takes my brain to process what Eli just said. I’m just here, hoping and praying this is one of his cruel pranks. “Try not to look too excited,” Elias says, wearing a smile so bright that means he’s genuinely enjoying himself and that tells me the most brutal truth of all. It isn’t a joke. “Shut up,” I snap. “Five minutes ago you were mad at me for not talking to you, now you want me quiet,” he shrugs a shoulder and picks up his pen. “You’re gonna have to start being much clearer if we’re gonna be besties.” It takes everything in me not to punch him, meanwhile he just returns to writing. My new bodyguard. Elias Arden. Who has spent the better part of two years finding increasingly creative ways to get under my skin. That person is going to be living in my house, following me to school, standing outside my bedroom doo
SIR #25: And Then What?
The fluorescent lights hum above me as I crouch behind the row of parked ambulances, watching the side entrance of the lab like it might blink first. “Camera feed looped,” Nico murmurs through my earpiece. “You’ve got exactly eleven minutes before the system runs a checksum and realizes something’
Huling Na-update : 2026-03-31SIR #23: Lucy Is Short For Lucia
We’re officially at 20k views, guyssss 😭 I know this might not seem like a huge milestone to some of you who are used to reading books with 100k, 500k, or even millions of views, but for me?? For the fact that this is my very first book ever??? Speechless. I was surprised when this book even got
Huling Na-update : 2026-03-31SIR #26: You Look Your Best With A Gun In Your Hand
I stare into the empty space where the ledger should be, my pulse loud in my ears, each beat reminding me how quickly everything we built to protect ourselves has crumbled. David exhales sharply beside me, the sound cutting through the silence. “Someone knew exactly where to look.” I don’t answer
Huling Na-update : 2026-03-31SIR #21: I Hate That You're Here
I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turn white as I speed through the city streets, David in the passenger seat beside me. "Turn left at the next light," he says quietly, glancing at his phone's GPS. "It'll shave off a few minutes." I nod without speaking and make the turn, the hospital
Huling Na-update : 2026-03-30
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