Page 159 of Finders Reapers

It was depressing AF.

Sometimes, when I was alone (which was rare because I seemed to be a permanent shadow to four brooding guys who didn’t seem to age), I would try and work out what I looked like. Who I was.

I would stand in front of Fletcher as he crocheted various video game characters, and I would scream in his face or dance around him to try and get his attention.

It never worked.

One day, Maddox went into the only free room in the suite, and he pulled out every suit from the wardrobe—donating them all. He replaced them with various women’s clothing, and I waited for this mysterious unseen girlfriend to move in, but she never did.

Occasionally, I noticed the passage of time. Another year passed.

Gradually, the blackouts stopped, but I remained invisible. Screaming as I felt my sanity fray at the edges.

The only thing keeping me going was my guys.

Fletcher.

Maddox.

Rome.

Jamal.

Sometimes I tried to knock things over, but it never worked.

Sometimes, I would climb into bed next to Maddox and curl around his large frame. Cocooning him, I pretended we were playing big spoon, little spoon.

Sometimes I’d sit and cheer as Rome knocked back vodka after vodka when he thought he was alone. Pretending it was a game, instead of a man crying silently in the dark.

Repeating the same woman’s name.

Occasionally, the guys would leave the suite. Opening a doorway that I couldn’t travel through.

I would feel them as if my connection to them was a spool of thread in my chest unraveling until I would wink out of existence and wake up again days later.

I had no idea where they went through those doorways, but they always seemed a little bit sad afterward.

Every day, I felt closer to my four roommates.

Until one day, I snapped.

I woke up, as usual, blinking into existence in the center of the Bellagio suite—expecting the sterile and quiet environment that I had grown used to from my guys.

I was surprised, and I was not happy about it.

The main room was filled, top to bottom, with people. Women in revealing dresses, who were working it. Men laughing and joking, and music so loud that I swore I could feel it in my veins even though I couldn’t feelanything.

I had no idea what had changed, but the air felt different.

It didn’t feel like a party.

It felt like a goodbye.

I drifted from room to room, searching for my guys, eventually finding them on the balcony in Maddox’s room, away from the sounds and sights of the party.

They were drinking whiskey and leaning on the railing overlooking the strip.

“It’s been ten years.” Jamal rolled the glass over his lips. “Ten fucking years.”