The Locked Door

Julian didn't hit him. He didn't scream.

He dragged Elliot back to Room 214 by the scruff of his neck, threw him inside, and locked the door. Then he sat on his bed, crossed his legs, and stared.

Elliot backed into the corner, clutching the yearbook he had stupidly brought with him. "You... you're a monster. You eat them."

"I sustain myself," Julian corrected calmly. "And I provide a service. Look at those boys in the photos, Elliot. Look at how peaceful they are."

"They look dead!"

"They are dead!" Julian snapped, his composure cracking for a fraction of a second. "We are all dead! But they didn't have to face the Abyss. They didn't have to be judged. They got to stay here, safe, warm, and loved. Is that such a bad fate?"

"I want to leave," Elliot said. His voice was shaking, but it was his own. "I want to graduate. I want to try."

Julian laughed. It was a cruel, dark sound.

"Try?" Julian stood up. "You want to *try*? Elliot, look at you."

He gestured to Elliot’s trembling form.

"You couldn't even choose a coffee order in life without having a panic attack. You let your mother pick your college. You let your girlfriend pick your apartment. You have never made a singular, autonomous decision in your entire miserable existence."

Elliot flinched with every sentence. They were arrows hitting the bullseye.

"You are a vessel," Julian continued, stepping closer. "You are empty waiting to be filled. You crave authority. You crave submission. You are terrified of freedom because freedom requires strength, and you, my darling El, are weak."

Julian cornered him. He placed a hand on the wall by Elliot’s head.

"If you walk out that door," Julian whispered, "you will be alone. No one to tell you what to wear. No one to tell you you're good. Just you, and the cold, and the judgment of the universe. Do you really think you can handle that?"

Elliot opened his mouth to say *yes*. To say *I am strong*.

But the words died in his throat. He looked at Julian—the only person who had ever made him feel safe. The only person who made the noise in his head stop.

"I..." Elliot faltered.

"Exactly," Julian sneered softly. He plucked the yearbook from Elliot’s hand and tossed it aside. "Now. Get on your knees and apologize."

Elliot’s knees hit the floor before his brain even processed the command.