creeping chill over my skin.
The door my dad busted down all those years ago is still wonky. The trim is nailed in place. He hasn’t even bothered to replace it.
I wait for my eyes to adjust to the night, and for some reason, I try to see if anyone is in the corner. It’s reflex, like I’m expecting someone to be there.
“I feel you,” I whisper into the room.
I wait for him to say something, to say anything, but he doesn’t. Headlights peek through the window for a second as a car drives by, giving me a glimpse of the room.
I stop breathing when I see a flash of a tall, broad man in the far corner of my room, where my dresser is. It still has a butterfly sticker on the middle drawer. I turn on the lamp to get a better look at the man, but he isn’t there. I check all of the corners of the room, but he isn’t there. I know I didn’t make him up.
He was there.
“Please, tell me if you’re there. Mentally, I can’t take anymore unknowns,” I beg, my heart nearly bursting from my chest with hope.
I know him.
I feel him.
But how?
I expect him to say something, anything, but the ceiling fan is all I hear as it spins in circles.
Maybe he was in my head.
I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t want to be in this house. I don’t want to be under the same roof as my father. I’m scared.
I miss… someone.
The cotton pillowcase rubs against my cheek as I bury my face into it and sob. I clutch my hand over my heart, hating how much it hurts and hating even more that I don’t understand why. “What’s happening to me?” I wail, stifling my cries in the pillow so Daddy doesn’t hear me.
He’ll get mad.
I rub my nose against my shirt and sniffle, then tuck my hands under my damp cheek. There are too many unknowns in my life.
And all of my questions revolve around Daddy.
What’s that say about what I know?
I thought I remembered a time when Daddy got sober and our life together was good, but now that I’m here, I’m wondering if that’s just what I made myself believe so I felt better.
If I felt what I feel now, then it isn’t surprising I left. But why did Aunt Tina come back if Daddy is a bad man? Why am I here? What power does he have over me?
Did I make up the birthday parties? My friends?
If all of it is fake, then what happened to my mom?
The burn on my chest stings, and I hiss as I readjust myself in bed.
“Holy Moly. Just forget it,” I gripe and sit up, then turn on the lamp again. I’m never going to be able to sleep in this hell hole.
A man laying across my tattered pink chaise lounge appears. I open my mouth on a scream, but when I see his face, no sound comes out. I crawl to the side of the bed to get a better look at him. The light moves across half of his face, and when his eyes land on mine, my worries halt. He has shaggy dark hair and a short beard. His gaze is penetrating, reaping my soul inside out and right side up. He is wearing a black leather cut that says ‘Ruthless Kings’, similar to the one Seer wore. His legs are long and encased in worn denim jeans with scuffed black boots.
The scent of pine and leather tickles my senses and the oddest sensation comes over me.
I know him.
I don’t know how I know, but I do.
He’s so familiar.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asks, his voice swinging low and deep as the lowest note of a trombone.
“Should I be?” It’s the wrong question to ask. The man can obviously kill me with a snap of his finger.
“No, Comet. I’d never hurt you.”
“Comet.” My brows push together when I hear the word. “Comet,” I repeat, a throbbing I my head pressing against my skull. There’s a memory there.
“Yes.” He rushes to the ground, falling to his knees. “You’re my Comet. My name is Tongue, but my given name is Wayne Hendrix. Seer says you don’t remember us.”
I shake my head and my lips wobble. This unbearable feeling weighs down on me. “Not yet, but I think I remember how I feel, and I’ve felt…”
“What?”
“I’ve been feeling like I miss someone deeply. Like when