Chapter 14

"She's been what?!" Thirteen's dad's voice echoes through the hall into the spare bedroom, where I'm sitting in the chair, legs propped up on the desk in front of the window, staring blankly out across the lawn below.

"How is that possible?!" He stomps past the door. "She's innocent! She'd never do anything like that!" Then he stomps back. "That's ridiculous! They can't hold her!"

Orange and yellow leaves rustle in the wind. A few break off and float on the breeze, twirling, dancing, for a short distance before falling to the ground, lifeless. Wouldn't it be nice if that dried out piece of plant matter were me?

"You know what's going on," Wilson says. I half glance over. He's standing beside the corner of the desk I'm angled towards.

"Yeah," I say without emotion.

"You can't just sit here like this contemplating death."

"Why not?" I look at him fully now.

Brows twitching with incredulity, his warm brown eyes judge me. "You're not really going to be a stubborn child even now, are you?"

I grab my cane, scratch my nails against the nickel-plated handle.

"Don't pretend you're okay with this."

My lip stiffens. "I am."

"Why do this?" His voice raises pitch in exasperation. "Who are you trying to fool?"

"What's wrong, honey?" asks Thirteen's step mom, muffled by the walls.

"It's Remy. She's been arrested! I'm going down to get her."

They keep talking, but their voices turn indistinct.

"You care," Wilson says. "Why should it be so hard for you to admit that after all that's happened? After what she's done for you."

I glower through the glass at the fluffy white clouds.

"Oh, I know what you're afraid of," he continues. "You don't want to care. Because if you care, then it hurts. If you care, you have to face the fear of losing her too."

My eyes narrow on reflex. "You know, since you've been dead I forgot how annoying you actually are."

"What a load of crap. You've missed me every second." He leans on the desk, forcing himself nearer in my peripheral vision. "There's a word for this. I've looked it up."

"How would you look anything up?" I turn to him again, almost wanting to smirk. "You're a figment of my imagination."

"Or am I?" He raises a brow teasingly.

"Oh, right, I'm supposed to believe you're communicating with me from beyond the grave."

"You never know."

I snort.

"The point is, you're what the Japanese call a tsundere." He chuckles. "What's funny is that term is usually assigned to teenaged girls in cartoons."

"Still annoying." I lift my cane and swing it at his leg.

"Ow!" He recoils, hopping back holding his shin. The smile stays on his face the entire time. "You say you that, but deep down you've got warm, fuzzy, lovey feelings for me. And you always will."

"Hallucination-you is delusional."

"Say that all you want." He grabs my cane from me, holds it away.

"Give that back." I reach, not quite convinced I should have to get out of my comfortable position.

"You love to keep up the asshole exterior, but inside lies a heart of gold. And you're not fooling me."

I laugh. "Of course not. Seeing as how you're a misfire of my brain."

"Oh, so you admit it, then?"

"No." I move my legs off the desk so I can stand. "Just give me my damn cane."

"Only if you get off your ass."

"Ah, already got off my ass." I reach for the cane again.

"Not what I meant." He keeps dodging my attempts to lay my hands on it, blocking with his arms, pushing me back. He stands on his toes and holds it as high as he can.

"This is ridiculous. I'm taller than you." My fingers touch the wood, wrap around it. I easily jerk it from his grasp.

Instead of his eyes flickering with irritation, he gives a satisfied smile. "Good. Now go and help Thirteen."

I freeze, cane still mid-air, held out from my side. He wanted me to do this. Oh, what the hell am I saying? He's not even real. This is just me battling with my subconscious. Which means...

"You want to go," he says. "You need to."

I lower my cane to the floor, eyeing him apprehensively.

"You're not protecting yourself. Caring is not what's going to make you miserable, not in the end. And... you already care."

I finally open my mouth, my gaze on the carpet, focusing in on the fine blue fibres."Why should I listen to anything a hallucinated version of you has to say?"

"Well, firstly, you don't honestly know that I'm only a hallucination. And secondly, even if I am, then I'm part of you. And that means part of you knows you're going to hate yourself if you don't do this."

There's a long pause.

"Dammit!" Thirteen's dad drops something in the other room. He must be rummaging for shoes and car keys, or whatever else he needs.

"You know I'm right," Wilson says. "You know what you need to do."

I don't answer. I grip my cane tightly, then turn and limp a step towards the door.

AN: There aren't any more longer chapters. I hope the pacing is decent and not too hurried.