Eli hated mornings. Not because of school, not because of the routine, but because waking up meant starting over. Again.
Pretending to be okay took energy.
He dressed in silence, the way he always did. Hoodie. Hood up. Eyes down. He knew how to vanish even while standing in plain sight. By the time he reached the front door, his brothers were already laughing about something he wasn't included in, and his mom was halfway through her coffee, distracted.
No one said goodbye when he left.
On the bus, he sat by the window like always, the notebook tucked under his arm like a lifeline. He didn't write in it there — too risky. But just having it close was enough.
At school, his name barely passed through people's lips unless it was part of a joke or a "Yo, can I copy your homework real quick?"
He let it happen. He always let it happen.
But today, something felt different.
In his locker — stuffed carelessly between his books — was a folded piece of paper that wasn't there before. No name on it. No handwriting he recognized.
He hesitated before opening it.
"You think no one sees you. But someone does. Keep writing."
His fingers went still. His heart didn't.
Someone knew.
But who?
He looked around, trying to be subtle. No one was watching him. No one even looked his way.
He carefully folded the note and tucked it into the back of his notebook — not with the rest of his entries, but in a fresh section. A new chapter, maybe. One he hadn't expected.
His silence had always been a shield.
Now, it might be a trail.