Two young men stand face to face under the glow of parking lot lights at night, locked in a tense, wordless exchange. On the left, a slim figure with spiked orange hair, black plugs, wire-frame glasses, and facial piercings wears a hoodie over a graphic tee. Opposite him stands a pale young man with shoulder-length reddish-blonde hair and a flannel shirt, his expression unreadable. Behind them, a long-haired man in a leather jacket leans against a deep blue muscle car, watching with quiet intensity. Cheerleaders in red and white uniforms cheer in the background, slightly out of focus beneath the cool evening sky.

Crucify Me Kindly

At the junior high talent show thick with awkward acts and cheap lighting, Abernathy Titwhistle takes the stage. What begins as a song becomes a self-inflicted crucifixion. By the time Abby leaves the piano bench, something has shifted. He didn’t sing for applause. He sang to reclaim his voice.

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