Page 24 of Possessed By Shadows

I heard Micah gasp, and then he turned back so fast he ran into me. Had he seen something?

“Maybe we can put your dad up in a hotel?” He said quickly, trying to usher us toward the door.

My dad wasn’t having it, he barreled passed us and into the room beyond. It was a back bedroom, or a study perhaps, since it had built in bookshelves. I expected ghosts, however, the ghosts in this room were all of my past, not something supernatural.

The room was set up with standing whiteboards, covered in pictures and text. A table sat square in the center, one of those cheap plastic white banquet ones you can buy for under a hundred bucks, covered in files and documents. Pictures of people I knew from my military days, locations of places I’d traveled while serving, and in my time missing, all spread out like some elaborate murder board in a police station might be.

My life, laid out like the staccato chaos it had been. I didn’t know how he’d gotten military records, but the map he had seemed to indicate he knew all the places I had been, even if for short amounts of time. Had I told him? I couldn’t remember.

My heart sank as my dad stared at the mess. My brother’s obsession with my disappearance and life in general had become a bit of a madness for him. I felt bad about that, like it was my fault, though it hadn’t been a choice I made.

“Sorry,” I said, like this had been something I created. I stepped forward and started shoving things back in folders and wishing I could erase it all. I didn’t have a dozen hearts of valor, or credentials to make a parent proud. I’d been a good soldier, taking orders until that day in the desert that had unraveled it all. But never enough of a superstar to be recognized for more than my skill with language, and then sent home for being crazy and useless.

Micah grabbed my hand. “Alex,” was all he said.

My gut hurt. Tears burned in my eyes as I stared down at my life laid out like I’d been murdered. Maybe I was still in a psych ward somewhere and this was all a dream. Maybe I was dead, and living out this mess over and over. That would be hell of the worst type, wouldn’t it?

“Alex,” Micah said again, this time pulling me into his arms. He was always so warm and alive, fitting against me perfectly, face tucked into my neck, breathing me in. I sucked in air. “Your brother’s obsession is not your fault.”

My father was gone. I didn’t know where, but I could hear him moving around the house. Either that, or the house had giant rats. Everything creaked and groaned. I hoped it was structurally sound, but I wanted to be anywhere else than here.

“Do you need anything else from us?” Micah asked after a moment, and I looked up to find my dad in the doorway again. He had a handful of paperwork and I worried a half second that he was reading about my past.

“He left instructions and a credit card for supplies,” my father said. He glanced at the room, and at me, but wouldn’t meet my gaze. “I’ll stop by the shop if I need something. Lukas will probably be here in the morning.”

Because Lukas was the good son. The logical one with a good job, or at least he used to have, and lots of resources. This mess, all this stupid display did, was showcase how incredibly fucked up my life was. I stepped out of Micah’s embrace, pushed passed my dad, and headed for the door.

I heard Micah say something to him about the keys, but I was already headed outside and back to the street before he joined me. He grabbed my hand, slowing my race, and squeezing it tightly. He didn’t say anything. No accusations or even comfort, which was fine. I wasn’t certain which I would have wanted in that moment.