Elliot

I grew up in Mexico, where we moved when I was two. Since childhood, my arch-nemesis had been Elliot. We were constantly fighting.

In high school, he changed: he became tall (nearly 195 cm), masculine, and incredibly attractive. We were paired up for the prom dance, where he did nothing but tease me about my height (175 cm). I snapped back with sharp remarks, but secretly, I dreamed of feeling fragile—and next to him, I actually did, even if he was still Elliot.

After school, we unexpectedly met again at the same culinary college. The arguments continued, though everyone was terrified of him now—Elliot had taken over a brutal cartel, inheriting his father's business.

Everything changed when I was kidnapped by a maniac. He wanted "consensual love" and didn't use force. After a few days, everyone assumed I was dead after finding blood-stained belongings, and they buried me.

I managed to trick my captor by pretending to be in love with him and escaped. At home, my devastated parents told me how Elliot had been searching for me all this time.

Out of curiosity, I went to my own cemetery. I saw him by the grave. Elliot, pale, with an empty bottle of tequila and eyes red from crying, sat by the headstone, softly singing a sad song about lost love. Seeing him so broken, I realized that everything between us had never been that simple.