I didn't want to see outside of these walls… but I had to.
Elias had never applied to college.
He'd gone to military school right when he was twelve. Woke up to drills and lights-out commands. Learned to shoot before he learned to parallel park. Graduated straight into deployment.
So when he told Liana to "try school," he hadn't exactly thought it through.
But he knew someone who had.
"Hey," he asked Luca during lunch the next day. "You went to college, right?"
Luca blinked. "Uh… yeah?"
"What do you need to get in?"
Luca raised an eyebrow. "Wait—are you going back to school?"
Elias sighed. "Not me. Liana."
"Oh. Ohhh." Luca leaned in, suddenly interested. "Gotcha."
He launched into a whole list—applications, essays, extracurriculars, letters of recommendation, transcripts. SATs.
Elias listened, jaw tightening with every word.
"She didn't do any of that," he muttered when Luca finally stopped talking.
Luca paused. "Then maybe don't aim for a four-year. Start small. Community college?"
That word—small—stuck.
Later that day, Elias left work with a brochure in his hand: Glendale Community College. Clean campus. Flexible programs. Accessible by bus.
Not prestigious. Not intimidating.
Just possible.
And that was enough—for now.
Liana didn't tell Elias she was looking.
She just waited until he left for work, then opened his old laptop and typed:
how to apply to college
She stared at the results.
So many tabs. So many steps.
One site said she needed a personal essay. Another talked about leadership experience. Extracurriculars. Community involvement. Recommendation letters. SAT scores.
Her throat tightened.
She didn't have any of those things.
She didn't even have a high school diploma.
No grades.
No records.
No clubs. No sports. No volunteer hours. No awards.
She hadn't done anything.
Unless surviving counted.
She'd spent the last five years learning how to stay alive.
How to breathe without breaking. How to go outside. How to smile. How to talk.
That wasn't something you could write on a résumé.
She sat there, staring at the word deadline.
She'd missed so many deadlines in life already.
Birthday parties. First kisses. High school dances. Exams. Summer jobs.
All the small markers that were supposed to lead a person from childhood into something more.
She'd skipped all of them.
And now, faced with a college website full of bright, smiling stock photos, she felt like a ghost trying to walk into someone else's future.
For the first time in a long time, she wondered—
Was she too far behind?
Elias came home early that evening.
Liana was already in the kitchen.
She wasn't cooking. Wasn't cleaning.
Just standing by the counter, staring at nothing.
He set the brochure on the table between them.
She looked down.
Then looked at him.
"You were serious?" she asked.
He nodded. "Figured we could start small."
She picked up the paper.
Glendale Community College.
It looked simple.
Safe.
Close.
Not like the websites she'd seen earlier that felt like fortresses.
"They don't require test scores," he said. "They take anyone willing to try. Some people transfer out after two years, others don't. Either way, it's a start."
She flipped through the brochure. Course names. Class times. Tuition breakdown.
Some of the words blurred.
She hadn't gone to school in years.
The thought of classrooms and hallways and group projects made her stomach twist.
But she was tired of hiding in the same four walls.
Tired of feeling like she wasn't real.
Then: "They want essays."
"We'll figure it out."
"I don't have anything to write about."
"You do," he said. "You just don't know it yet."
She went quiet.
Then: "I'm scared."
"I know."
He didn't say "you'll be fine." He didn't say "don't worry."
He knew better than that.
Instead, he said: "I'll help you."
She stared at the paper in her hands. Folded it. Smoothed the crease.
"I think I want to try."
He didn't smile. Didn't say anything overly encouraging.
He just nodded.
"Okay."
And for now—
That was enough.