the last thing el said to hopper was “i’m not sara.” she gave him back her bracelet. she let him believe she was safe. she never said goodbye to the man who chose to be her father.
she never said goodbye to the mother who took her in when she had nothing, the woman who inducted her into her family with a haircut everyone made fun of but she treasured as her own.
she never said goodbye to the older brother who looked after her in an unfamiliar home, who drove blindly into the desert on the idea of hope that they would find her.
she never said goodbye to her best friend, the only girl who ever took the time to try to understand her, the only girl who wanted to help her learn who she was to herself, the girl whose life she refused to let end before its time.
she never said goodbye to the boys who found her in the woods, the boys who were scared of her at first but who became some of her most trusted friends in the world. the boys who saw her as, yes, a hero, but also as a girl, too.
she never said goodbye to her brother, her twin in everything but genetics, who saved her life as she saved his from the monster who destroyed both their childhoods. she never said goodbye to her real brother, the one who understood her to her core, the one who showed her that the monster was not the family she deserved.
she said goodbye to her sister, after a years-long separation, as she bled out in her arms.
the last thing el said before her final goodbye—to the first boy who ever showed her kindness, the boy who never quite understood her the way she wanted him to but who cared for her regardless—was “i love you.” and she never heard it back.
