第七话

“Mom will be so mad…” he muttered, leaning against the smooth bark of the tree. “It was nice while it lasted.”‘What was nice?’ A voice suddenly spoke in his head, sounding vaguely familiar. “What do you mean? What am I doing here

?”“What are you talking about?” The question made his stomach turn inside out. Was this some sort of hallucination? No way, he thought. “Are you real? Or am I going crazy?”‘You’re not crazy. You're in your own mind.

’“Well, I'm not exactly sure how to explain myself.”“Okay, fine," he sighed. "So where am I, and who are you?"‘I'm a part of you, or a part of you. I can see all of you, remember?’“

“Oh." He sat up and turned his body towards the voice. "Then... How come my mom thinks I'm crazy? She keeps calling me names and throwing things.""How many times does this have happened?”“Uh...” he hesitated before answering. “Twice already, I think? Maybe three?

”“And when she's upset, you just... disappear?”“Yup.”“Huh." They were quiet again. After a long moment, the person spoke up again, but their voice was quieter this time."I understand now.”'Understand?' he wondered.

“What do you mean?”“This... This whole thing,” they explained. “The hallucinations. All of this is because of me.”“Wait, what do you mean 'because of you'? What are we talking about?”“We aren't actually together.”“

But we are,” he insisted. “You are me.”They chuckled. “No we’re not. We’re two separate people.”He shook his head. “Not true. When you say we are, I hear what you're saying.""You don't hear anything. Everything I say is in your head.""No, it isn't. I know what you're saying. And I know what you're thinking.""You don't know anything. You're just a figment of my imagination.""No, I'm not. I'm really here. I'm sitting next to you right now.""You'

're dreaming.""No, I'm not.""Yes, you are! You're lying down right now! You can hear your thoughts!""But I know what I'm saying!"He jumped to his feet and paced around the small clearing. "Don't you even know what that means?!""What doesn't?" The voice sounded confused. "

Being able to think, having the power to create your own reality?""Exactly!" He grabbed the first thing that came to his mind – the stick he used to play football in high school – and brandished it at imaginary enemy. "This is all real! Why won't you believe me?" He swung the stick

around in the air wildly, watching the imaginary enemy move out of the way. It was all very dramatic. But then the imaginary enemy attacked him and the game stopped. Well, it ended the way everything else was supposed to. "Whoa!" He stepped back from the imaginary foe

. "Sorry. I get carried away sometimes."The imaginary friend laughed. “It’s okay. I've heard worse.”"Really? What, like when Mom yells at me to stop crying?" The imaginary friend rolled his eyes. "She never yelled at you. She'

s a lot nicer than that."The imaginary friend frowned at him."But you don't believe that, do you?" he asked. The imaginary friend shrugged, his face still frowning. “You’re too smart to just fall for stuff like that.”"Maybe so,“ he agreed reluctantly. ”

But you're not here to convince me. I need answers, okay? So I need you to talk to me.""About what?""Anything."He looked away. “Just tell me something. Anything.”The imaginary friend smiled warmly. "All right, then. Tell me how you feel."'How I feel?'

he repeated. “About what?”“About anything. Just something.”He stared off into the distance, deep in thought. "Fine, how about that one thing we both have in common," he finally answered. "We've both got a brother named Chris."“That’s not bad,”

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