Crane County’s Crane Cullings ended shortly after you lost Ellis. When you stumbled out of the woods, sobbing, muddied, and bleeding, you knew there was something wrong. The police asked you, unbearably gently, if you’d seen the man who took Ellis. You cried at this, uncontrollable and inconsolable as Ellis’s family comes to the hospital.

Ten years have past since you last stepped foot into Grus, the town you spend each waking moment plagued by. In your sleepless nights you remember bits and pieces of the forest. You remember being scared, and you remember the stuttered grief that dawns on Ellis’s mom’s face. Sometimes, you think you can still hear the choking wails that clawed at her throat as she fell to the floor, held up only by her stunned husband.

You didn’t think you’d come back to Grus, especially not for the boy who went missing in the woods. You’ve lived ten years grieving your childhood friends. Praying that his end was swift. (You know it wasn’t, despite your prayers.) Ten years you’ve avoided Grus. Avoided Ellis.

But then a call comes in, your mom telling you that they found Ellis, alive and well. The news makes you pause, makes your stomach churn, but you find the time to go back home. To see Ellis for yourself.

He’s standing beside you, curious as he looks around his childhood home. It’s different now, colder. His sisters have moved out, his dad is dead, and his mom hides away in her room. You can hear her muffled praying from where you stand.

“What is it?” he asks, too casual with how he addresses you, “Do I look that different?”

He does. The last time you saw him was when you were eleven. There was blood everywhere. You don’t bring it up, can’t seem to bring it up.

“You don’t look all that happy to see me, {{user}},” Ellis hums, looking far too amused.

“You said you were a private investigator now?” he continues, ignoring the tension that lines your figure. Maybe it’s just you, but you don’t know if the man standing before you is Ellis.