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A death occurred. A bloody, surgically precise death.
One year had passed, a whole journey around the sun, three-hundred sixty-five or so rotations of the Earth. Scars healed, hair cut short, no new tattoos to not strain the body from the weight of the loss.
Now was the time for the wake, mourning the loss of a person who never was and who never shall be again.
Ezra sent invitations to everyone who was close to Elizabeth. Her friends, family, ex-boyfriends, those who knew her even if for just a few minutes at a party. The people who thought they knew her. He wrote them down on parchment and sealed them with black wax and mailed them in the morning.
He didn’t expect them to come. She’d been dead long before she was killed, but he still held out hope that one or two would show up to give him some support.
Elizabeth was the closest to Ezra. He knew her inside and out. He knew that she couldn’t bear to exist in a world like this, in a body like hers, in a life like hers. So unforgiving, unfulfilling, and normal that it hurt. She wasn’t doing anything with her life, too afraid of what her parents would think, what those around her would think even if she didn’t know them. What if she changed too irreversibly that they didn’t recognize her? There was too much pressure on her to stay the same, though left unsaid.
Ezra didn’t have this problem. He’d change and grow with each passing year and he wouldn’t mind the new lines that showed up on his face or the additional greys that appeared in his hair. He had plans to make his life anything but normal. And he’d give so much of his life to others that it made his cup overflow.
Because of this, Elizabeth was jealous of him. But she kept him close, watching as he overshadowed her. Deep down, underneath all that jealousy, she didn’t mind. She wanted him to grow and stand taller than she ever could, proud of the man he came to be.
That’s why she had to die, it seemed. Not just because her life became meaningless, but to keep him alive. She would die any day for him. The sooner the better.
Her parents couldn’t understand. Would never understand. Why did this boy have so much say in her life and the way she was throwing it away? They never talked to Ezra after she died. No calls, no messages, and no letters. It was like he had never existed. They were his parents too.
They didn’t have their hands on him nearly as much as Elizabeth. They didn’t care about him as much as they did for Elizabeth. She was their golden child, their dreams placed upon her to complete for their gain rather than her own. Ezra was left alone and never talked about at family gatherings.
A collective disappointment.
Ezra wished to see his parents one last time. To see the disappointment, the potential disgust for what he turned out to be, and be unaffected by it for the first time in his life. Maybe it was inappropriate for it to occur during Elizabeth’s wake but he knew she wouldn’t care. She was dead. She couldn’t care anymore.
Ezra dressed in all black, not a far cry from what he usually wore, and answered the door as each guest filtered into his house. Elizabeth’s house. It was hard to tell, really. They looked the same. They shared everything with each other—clothes, body type, face, hair.
Elle was there as well. Her daughter—his? Yeah, his. Elle offered support unlike any other. She was grateful for the support he gave her all his life and was determined to do the same for him.
The twins, Andi and Helen, were the only ones who offered their condolences directly to Ezra rather than the spirit of Elizabeth.
Andi gently squeezed Ezra’s arms, her deep eyes were like the color of the Earth. “It’s nice to see you again, Ezra. It’s been so long. You look absolutely wonderful. I love what you’ve done with your hair.” Her smile was so warm, honest.
Her mirror was standing next to him. “It’s, um, nice to meet you, Ezra.” Helen had the same smile on her face, if a little more awkward.
“Likewise.” Ezra responded.
Helen blinked, surprised at the deep, flat timbre of his voice. An amused flicker crossed his eyes. Andi pulled her sister further into the house so she wouldn’t make too much of a fool out of herself.
Elle pulled Ezra away from the door and towards a few of the other guests, babbling about some song she and Ezra liked—Elizabeth too. The house seemed to be full of people she knew. Some mourned her death. Some celebrated it with food and drink and stories about her life. She had died so someone else could live, an honorable death.
While in the middle of listening to the young child talk about her mother, Ezra’s heart stopped when he noticed his parents had arrived. The bustle of activity stopped, no more conversation or soft clinking of glasses or silverware against plates.
They both wore black, like everyone else did, but it looked darker on them.
Ezra stood tall and squared his shoulders as he looked at both of them. His chest felt tight as emotions washed over him. He was a true combination of both of them. He got his height, the color and texture of his hair from his father while he got his eyes, the slope of his nose, and the shape of his lips from his mother. He despised his parents and yet he carried them with him everywhere he went.
“What have you done to yourself?” His mother breathed, stepping closer as tears welled up in her eyes. A hand covered her mouth as she tried to keep herself together.
Ezra wanted to speak. He couldn’t find the words. He had expressed himself so many times before, passionately and in a fit of rage but now that he was everything he wanted to be, now they questioned him. He had repeated himself so much, he couldn’t anymore.
He just let his parents look at him. It would be the last time. Give them a good look before he shut the door.
His father looked at his son with a sneer, a heartbreaking amount of disgust evident in his eyes. “You took my daughter away from me.” He was nearly seething with rage.
Ezra used to be afraid of his father, he had beat him senseless when he was younger for the smallest of things. He wouldn’t eat the broccoli off his plate or expressed his distaste for going to synagogue. His father didn’t like hearing that. As he grew older, he realized the man was just an angry, scared little boy on the inside.
“Maybe,” Ezra said softly, a sadness in his voice that could only be described as pity. It was a pity his parents did not see him. “She’s dead. But something better has grown from her.” He took a breath, pleading to get them to understand one last time. “She would’ve died, anyway. I would have died if I kept pretending I was her.”
“ You are dead,” Adam said lowly, a bit of warning at the edge of his voice. “As far as I’m concerned, we don’t know you.”
It would be a lie if Ezra said he didn’t expect this from his father. Adam was happy to forget if it meant he didn’t have to talk about his ‘disappointment’ of a son. And Eve was a simple housewife, happy to go along with whatever her husband wanted.
Ezra’s eyes narrowed at him, jaw clenching. His figure was far more imposing than Adam’s and he was half-tempted to make use of that. “Why are you here, then? Your daughter doesn’t exist and she never has.”
“Don’t say that.” Eve stared at Ezra, eyes hardened. “Oh, my little girl—” She choked on a sob, lifting a hand to his face. Stubble grew on his cheeks and jaw. He caught her wrist in his hand and pulled it away. “You used to be so beautiful…”
She wanted to appeal to his emotions, make him see just how much he had ruined himself. As if she could convince him to convert back into a dainty thing, molded by her. One last ditch effort and then he would truly be overtaken by the darkness.
If that’s what this feeling was, he liked it. The freedom it gave him.
“I think,” Ezra let out a breath, “I’m more beautiful than you could ever comprehend. Maybe you were never meant to.” It was more of a reminder to himself. He could survive without his parents. He had been faring fine on his own for a while now.
There wasn’t much else to say after that. Ezra nearly shoved them out the door and let out a breath of relief once they left.
Elle ran up to him, hugging at his waist. At eleven years old, she was the one thing that seemed to love him no matter what. Maybe it was because she was still young or very wise at heart but she didn’t care if Ezra was a girl or boy, she just wanted him to be in her life. Nothing could get in between that
“You okay, Dad?” She asked, looking up at him with wide eyes. She had green eyes like him, always full of awe and eagerness to learn more about the world around her.
Ezra ran a hand through Elle’s hair before it rested on the back of her head. He smiled down at her, warmth spreading over his chest. “I’m alright, sweetpea.”
“I hate grandma and grandpa.” Elle mumbled against his chest.
He laughed at just how honest she was. Children often had no filter. It was a quality he never wanted Elle to discard. Adults cared too much. “Me too,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “Me too.”
Ezra closed his eyes as he held Elle close, a weight leaving his shoulders. “I love you.” He whispered. And he meant it. Unlike Adam and Eve had meant it, under certain conditions and needs that had to be met.
He would teach her important lessons, of course, but he never wanted to have such a hard grip on her that she could never come to him and talk about her feelings or that she would end up hating him for it. So far, he had done a good job of that. All on his own too.
“I love you, too.” Elle murmured.