Shadows Pt. 7

“Hello, Grove? Y-yeah, it's Briar. Look... I really, REALLY don't feel well... if you don't mind, I... I gotta take off tomorrow. I feel really ill... Okay. Okay. Thanks...”
I knock over a bottle as I hang up. One, two, three, four... Ugh, way too many.
“Get... the fuck... out of there...” I say as I tap the some-teenth drink against my head. Was Dad right? Is there a legitimate reason why this is happening to me? Does it happen to him, too? I don't feel so good... I sit there, watching my drink like it's some sort of show. The liquid- slowly churning as I spin it around my hand. Everything slows down. I look down into the bottle, the alcohol spinning.

“NEED.”

The word spins downward to the bottom of the glass. I throw it across the room. The smash hurts my ears. I scream as I vomit all over the floor next to my end table. No. There has to be a reason. I grab for a pen and start scribbling down notes on a piece of paper. “Need.”; a need for what? Alcohol? Already had plenty of that, thank you. I start scribbling down past words. They have to connect, they have to define something. What do they have in common? One word, not too complicated, usually pertaining to something around me. “Reincarnate”? Of what, my Mother's memory? What does that have to do with anything? It's as I said, I don't feel that anymore. She's gone. I've accepted that. But was what I saw really her? And what had I “forgotten” exactly? It's nonsense. It doesn't pertain to anything. It doesn't have a god damn meaning. My brain is simply fucking with me, this whole world is tearing me apart! I flip over the coffee table in front of me. I scream. I cry. I scream again. I turn around violently.

…

A figure stands before me.
T h i s  i s  y o u r  f a u l t .

“W-What the fuck...?” I stumble over the flipped table.
T H I S  I S  Y O U R  F A U L T ! ! !
“Who are you?! WHAT are you?!” I scream at the black figure.
L O O K  W H A T  Y O U ' V E  D O N E !
It backs me up to the wall. I have never been so terrified. This thing feels real. But it can't be...

Y o u  a s k  w h o  I  a m , w h e n  y o u  d o n ' t  e v e n  k n o w  y o u r s e l f .

“... I know who I am.”

T H E N  W H Y  H A V E  Y O U  F O R G O T T E N ? ! Y O U  A R E  A  S H E L L  O F  A 

M A N  Y O U  O N C E  C L A I M E D  T O  B E .  A N D  Y O U  H A V E  N O  O N E  T O

B L A M E  B U T  Y O U R S E L F ! !

“I have done nothing wrong! I am not who you think I am!!” I scream at the apparition.
Y O U  A R E  A  B E T R A Y E R !

“Betrayer...?” the figure turns to the wall. He tears it down as if it were wallpaper, revealing stacks of papers behind it.

Y O U  L I V E  I N  Y O U R  O W N  T R E A C H E R Y .  N O T  E V E N  O N C E 

R E G R E T T I N G  T H E  A C T I O N S  Y O U  H A V E  T A K E N ! ! !
The figure runs his hand violently across the papers spelling out a word across the wall.
“BETRAYAL.”
Y o u  h a v e  b r o u g h t  t h i s  u p o n  y o u r s e l f .

The figure vanishes before my eyes, along with the papers it had created.

I sit against the wall. Catatonic.

Shadows Pt. 6

“It's good to see you again, Son.”
He says that, but I don't know if he means it. I betrayed him. After all he's done for me. After all that's... happened to us.
“You don't believe me, do you...” he says as he pushes the rims of his glasses back.
“No, no I- I mean yes. Yes, I believe you, Dad... I just...” I struggled to get words out. Everything is just so cloudy. I don't even know if I'm even processing this situation.
“You just think that I'd be holding a grudge... Son... Look at me.” he takes my hand. He knows I don't like that. But right now I need as much human contact as I can get. I look up at him.
“You were stressed. Boxed in. Caged by everything bothering us...” He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. He was still upset... Why wouldn't he be-

“PAST.”
The word reflected off of his glasses as if he were reading them himself. Tears streamed down my eyes.
“Dad...” I stuttered. He looked at me. The same way he did a year ago. Broken. Before I knew it I was in his arms.
“I miss her too, Briar. So... so very much.” I have never seen my Dad cry this way. A year ago, my Mother took her own life. Hid it from us. Disappeared. Only for us to find her at the bottom of a lake. I can't even remember it... I felt terrible for not feeling the same pain Dad felt... It hit him so hard, but... I just can't feel anything.
“Dad... I'm sorry... I had to leave... Even though...” I'm all you have left... “I just had to. But now... Now I don't know what's going on...” I struggled to find words to describe it to him. He's in as much pain as I am.
“What do you mean, Briar? You can tell me anything, you know that...” he wiped his own eyes.
“I think I'm going insane.”
He sat back from me.
“Why would you think that?” he said to me, concerned, not panicked.
“I'm seeing things. Words. People. Places... They scare me, Dad. It's not like I'm drugged or intoxicated, they just happen... They even happened a moment ago... I don't know why this is happening... Yesterday I was in the park... I heard voices. Crying, concerned, asking questions, talking to me- but I couldn't respond...” I looked up at him for support. But he wasn't looking at me. He looked... grim. He didn't say anything for a while.
“Son... These are hard times we're going through. It's you, telling yourself that life is changing, and you just haven't accepted it yet.” That isn't what I was expecting... but he sounds like he actually knows why this is happening...
“What are you saying... these visions are expected to happen? Like some fucking personal rite of passage?” All I could see was red.
“Briar, relax-”
“Is this just some sort of life lesson to you? Something simplified down to playground-lesson bullshit? Are you seeing words, too? Like some fucked up side affect of a loved one winding up dead in a lake?”
“Briar, that's enough-”
“Mom's dead! Abracadabra, you're in your own little dream world- it all makes sense-”
“BRIAR!” his fist slams the table. The people around us glance our way. The park is meant for play, not father-son fights. Dad's eyes well up with tears.

But that's not what's caught my attention. Something's behind him. Someone. I look back at Dad. He's just sitting there, with a solid frown on his face. As if time had stood still... I looked back at the figure. A woman.

“Why have you forgotten?” the figure says.
“Who are you?” I question through a strained voice.
“Why have you forgotten, Briar? What happened to you?” the figure seems to be crying. I know that voice.
“....Mom?”

"REINCARNATE."
The word beams behind her, floating.
I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't talk. I have to go. I look toward Dad. He's looking at me like he's seen my Mother's corpse once more.
“What happened to you, Briar?” he whispers through a pained silence.
I ran. Ran as fast as I could. I could hear my Dad calling my name from behind me.

What happened to me...?