think she’s awake.” The voice was even and assured. This time, it felt real—not in my head, not distant, but right there in the room. Hearing it sent warmth through my body like a coil that slowly unraveled, starting from my toes, past my knees and then lingering at my thighs before moving up toward my chest, past my neck and ending with burning cheeks. Hearing it, I felt lighter, like my body was no longer pressed into the bed.
It was HIM, the voice, my voice, my life. He’d found me. I knew at that moment that I would do whatever he asked of me, go anywhere with him. And then I saw him, and everything I knew before went out the window. I knew only what he would tell me next.
His face. No! It couldn’t be. This was too much for my broken mind to handle. I could deal with the demonic creatures, and even angels, but not this.
I began gasping, inhaling, inhaling, inhaling, but was unable to exhale. My chest felt like it would explode from the pressure.
“Relax, it’s OK. Calm down. Breathe. Slow.” He spoke, and my body responded to his orders. Slowly, I settled into a regular breathing pattern and studied him.
His features faded in and out. It took a lot of energy to focus. I wished he’d come closer. My body was working overtime to piss me off. It wasn’t clear if his features were dark, or if it was just his mood.
His skin held a pale hue, like maybe they didn’t have summer where he’s from. Eyes that seemed like they couldn’t decide whether to be blue or green peered at me with what appeared to be concern. He may have had a hairstyle at one time, but it was grossly overgrown. The look was effortless on him, jet black and kissing his shoulders.
How did Mom and Dead Dad know him?
My thoughts were all scrambled, like someone was rewinding the last few weeks, or maybe erasing them, preparing to replace them with new ones, the way you would reformat a hard drive. It worsened my headache to see things race by so fast. What brief coherence I’d managed was gone, demolished by the appearance of a singular boy.
He moved with the grace of royalty from the open door to the side of my bed. He threw a furtive glance at Dead Dad and then nodded to Mom.
Just outside my room, nurses pointed, stared, and giggled like little girls. One had a camera, and two others angled for photos with their mobile phones. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother wave her dainty hand and close the mini-blinds on the interior windows the nurses used to look in on patients. Fireflies fluttered in my stomach again, warm and quick, the truth of what I was and about to become secret and yet apparent.
As if last night was not enough of a toll on me, now Mom was there doing the same tricks Remi had taught me, only this time in the presence of Dead Dad and the voice from my head. I reached for the call button, but Mom shook her head at me, indicating that wasn’t a good idea. Rats.
Dad stood in line, rigid and at attention as if awaiting orders. He looked like Dad, only nearly translucent. Like, Dead Dad would’ve. Should’ve. Since he was freaking dead, and I was hallucinating the worst hallucination ever. I covered my eyes, hoping that when I uncovered them, they’d all be gone. Well, not all of them.
But when I opened my eyes, they were still there, staring at me like I was crazy. Then there was a rush of tears. The kind that come when you realize your worst fear has come true. Their being there could only mean one thing: I was certifiably insane. I wasn’t special, as Dad had suspected, just nuts.
“Dad, Mom?” I looked from him to her, but it was as if I’d said nothing. Neither of them moved or even acknowledged that I’d spoken.
OH NO! Is this my last wish? Am I dying? Did someone, maybe Remi, think I would enjoy a visit from a rock star as my dying wish? It’s why I can see Dead Dad. He’s dead. I’m near-dead. And Remi sent a rock star to my hospital room as a wish-fulfillment thing. This is worse than I thought.
As I waited for words, movement—anything, it became clear that something urgent was happening, something more