A whisper

I try to sleep a bit, maybe at my place, I can get some rest.

But that child won't leave me alone; he keeps pacing back and forth in the room, sighing.

"Stop it, you're getting on my nerves."

"Finally, you're talking to me."

"Why don't you go away?"

"Because I am you."

"What do you mean?"

Someone knocks on the door. It's my mother, who, as usual, is super quiet.

"Isaac, who are you talking to?"

"No one."

"Okay, try to get some sleep."

She closes the door.

I love my parents, but I don't want them to think I'm going crazy. I certainly can't tell them that there's a child with me that apparently only I see.

I finally manage to close my eyes, but a wet sensation makes me reopen them. "It can't be; this is blood; I'm losing blood," I start screaming at the top of my lungs.

My parents rush into the room.

"Isaac, calm down!"

"I'm losing blood, I'm losing blood."

"Sweetheart, open your eyes! You're not losing blood; it's just a dream."

She hugs me, and after a while, I calm down. I see the confusion in their eyes. "What's happening to me, where am I heading?"

I see my mother moving away from me to whisper something in my father's ear.

"Mom, what's happening?"

"Mh... How to say, when you were screaming, your voice sounded like that of a child."

I stay silent before covering myself entirely with the blanket.

"You must be tired; try to sleep."

She held my hand like when I couldn't fall asleep as a child because of the fear of the dark.

It's seven in the morning, and I'm already awake.

I'm all sweaty, and my head is throbbing. I shouldn't smoke, but I go to the bathroom anyway, open the window, and light a cigarette.

"Let me out, I want to get out."

A voice screams in my head; it seems as if it's inside me. I can't answer it; it scares me too much; I'm paralyzed.

The cigarette falls from my fingers; I feel the smoke in my lungs increasing, suffocating me.

"Where are we?"

"Why am I talking in the plural? There's only me in the room."

"You're wrong, Isaac; I'm here too."

I see Liam reflected in the bathroom mirror, pointing a gun at me.

"But what?! You're just a child; I'm just a child."

"Is it really so, Isaac? Are we just children?"

"I, I don't know."

I have no certainties; I only have a bunch of questions I don't know how to answer. The truth is that I don't know if I want the answer.

I go to the kitchen to have breakfast, even though my stomach is tight.

"Isaac."

I jump like a cricket from the chair, lower my head, "please don't hit me."

"Sweetie, calm down; the more time passes, the more I think we should see a specialist. What do you think?"

If I go to a specialist, it means there's something wrong with me. "I'm crazy."

"Isaac, what are you thinking? This doesn't change the way your father and I see you, clear!"

Now I feel a bit relieved.

I'm sitting on the couch, watching my father and mother talking to different people on the phone. This increases anxiety inside you more and more.

"Look, Isaac, they're looking for a place to take you back."

"It's not true; they love me."

"Really? Listen carefully to their words."

I hear my mother saying words that I never wanted to hear at that moment, "where can we take him?"

"I don't want to go anywhere!" I scream in despair.

I look at my parents' faces confused by my reaction. My father, visibly worried, approaches me and hugs me. I burst into tears.