The Ghost of Home

The First Opposition

You're angry, you're appalled, you're sad then you feel nothing. A strange and unsettling numbness seems to have taken over your body. You look down at your hands, clenched into tight fists, and wonder what good they would do. What good would it bring if you raise your fist, if you lashed out in frustration and anger?

You shoot up from your seat and grab Wally's hand. You don't want any of his friends to hear you scream and cry his ear off so you run. Run where only the flowers can sympathize and only for Wally to hear.

"As if you don't already hear them," You scoff as you take one last step into isolation, "Since when Wally? I lost my life and memories now I lose my privacy? What if I grab you by the hair and swing you around?"

"Well, I wouldn't like that for sure!"

You're so annoyed to the point you can't even cry anymore.

"Are you really behind in all of this? Are you aware that I'm slowly going insane about this?" You want to rip your hair out but you don't. The intensity of your feelings has rendered you numb. "I...I can only take so much. I don't care what your motivations are– will I ever get out of this!?"

Wally leisurely paces around as you talk. He seems to be absent from the conversation.

"Hm," He begins, "Hmmmm."

"Hmmm!?" You impatiently answer back. "Hm, what!?"

Wally suppresses a laugh. Whether it's to mock you or if he finds the flowers funny is lost on you. "Oh, nothing. I was just thinking if we should have a picnic together! I heard the weather is nice tomorrow."

"...You're not taking me seriously, Wally."

You couldn't help but feel like you were losing your mind. This conversation was going in circles for days– for days! And no matter how many times you try to bring it up, it was like you were talking to a rock. It was like you were speaking two different languages! Consequently, this made you doubt yourself. You start to feel like you were the insane one in the conversation. You don't know who else to turn to. You feel like you can't trust anyone– or yourself to handle this whole situation. No matter how many times you try and think or find a way out, it leads you to nothing. Even if you haven't stepped foot into the forest, you already know it's a lost cause.

Stuck in a cage with no lock and keys.

"I'm telling them." Your breath picks up yet no tears fall."What would you do if I tell them–What if I tell them about how this place is...is–I don't even know what or where this world is from–" You don't realize your hands gripping your hair– "That this place is some mere dream, I think– my origin...where...what if I told them about you, about–" A hand grabs your throat.

He kisses you.

He–

"You're getting tongue-tied, friend." You go frigid. Wally's hand is on your neck, his fingers pressing hard just under your jaw and beside your windpipe, to feel whether your pulse would escape your throat.

"I know you won't," Wally chuckles as he separates himself but you grip him by the collar with hostility, your hand immovable, your nails piercing through his shirt onto your palm as if it's the only thing pulling you together. "Even if you did, I don't know what would happen. Does that not scare you, little lamb?"

The sound of his voice makes your teeth grit.

"Enough," it came out almost as a mumble, "Don't call me that. I'm not the same person–"

"What are you going to tell them? Our neighbors, our friends...Are you going to tell them that you're not like one of us? That you have liquid under that skin that keeps you alive, that you breathe when none of us can?" Wally holds your grip on his collar. The faux gentleness makes you grip it harder. He smiles at that. "Are you going to tell them this place isn't real? Even though you feel pain, you feel anger, you feel sickness and hunger."