Dear S – Pt. 4

Read Pt.1, Pt.2, and Pt. 3 first!

Flashforward a couple days (15 days ago).

I was a mess. There had been no call or contact from her. There had been no contact from you. I was desperately lonely, so I even called up Jon, who as you know, I had dumped well over two months ago. He didn’t answer.

I  saw several things throughout that period, though none affected me quite as much as the boy. He was always there. He was always pointing, always whispering, always making it known that he knew who I was and where I was. He was practically a permanent fixture in my home, he was my new roommate.

This is going to sound fucked up, but in a way he started becoming more of a comfort than a worry, having not seen anybody else in so long. At least I knew I wasn’t completely alone, you know?

So on this particular afternoon, I waited for him. I sat in my living room staring blindly at the television, scanning the rooms in the apartment from my recliner-vantage point once every 5 or so minutes. It seemed like hours before he made an appearance, and it was as though he really didn’t want to this time, as though, now that I was waiting for him I was a hassle. Imagine that, some otherworldly force getting agitated with me.

He was by the window when I saw him, in that stupid spare room we never used. I tried to stand up quietly, to not make any noise, but my knees cracked from not moving all day and he stiffened his stance.

I crept into the room, keeping a good distance from him once inside, but still closer than I had ever been so far.

I needed to talk to him, but my mouth was so impossibly dry. 

‘Who are they? What do they want? What do you want?

My voice was surprisingly strong. No wavering, no stuttering.

Of course, as I predicted, he said nothing. He did, however, respond in a way that was perhaps more helpful.

The boy began moving his finger. This time instead of pointing up, or to the wall, or to any goddamn spot that made no sense to me at the time, he pointed right at my head. For some reason, the action gave me the chills, as if his finger was a loaded gun and he was just waiting to pull that trigger on me.

I lost all of my bravery and curiosity I had before and backed out of the room clumsily, trying not to take my eyes off of him all the while, trying to will myself to believe he really was a figment of my imagination again, refusing to accept that he was real and he was acknowledging me, directly…

– D.R Breshears

Stay tuned for more next week!



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