Dad left sometime early Saturday morning. Not sure if it’s because he doesn’t want to be around 35, his boss demanded it, or both. Not much happened on the weekend. Mom didn’t even take us to church. Not sure why. It’s not THAT far to Montrose. Delilah still hasn’t spoken to either of us. So, my only company has been 35. The only breakthrough we’ve had since Friday is how we’re going to empty my colon, and I’d rather not reflect on that. It was either that or blowing up at the gut. Debatable if I made the right pick.

But all of that is behind me. Mom’s driving me to school in her Outback, because they wouldn’t let me on the bus. Without Delilah, because they did let her on. So, it’s me, Mom, and 35. A little awkward, considering she has a few opinions on 35’s testimony at the meeting, but nobody says anything the whole way to school.

Eventually, she pulls up to the front of the school with all the other parents. I open the door, step out, and grab my backpack. As I do that, Mom grabs my attention.

“Hey sweetie, please, please make good choices, okay?” She says to me, glancing at 35 several times.

“I will,” I say without thinking. I’ve said it enough times where it’s become a reflex at this point. But will I? Hard to tell given the circumstances

I close the door. She blows me a kiss and drives away.

I turn towards the school, with 35 standing to my right. Half of the people here are looking at us. Fear creeps its way into my chest.

“You ready?” asks 35. “I gotta hitch a ride. Mom’s orders.”

I close my eyes, partially in hope that I’ll wake up and it’ll all be gone. I open them back up. Nope. I’m still here. I can’t just stand here all day, so…

“Yeah, I guess I’m ready.”

It’s a lie. I’m never ready for anything.

“Alrighty then.” They then turn to me. “You know what happens next.”

Yep. I close my eyes in anticipation. 35 works their way into me. They work slowly. We’ve practiced this all weekend. I don’t get visions as much anymore. 35 knows I get them-I’ve brought them up. I’ve even tried asking about them, but they never answer. Go figure. In any case, the only image I get is of a Red-Haired, Green-Eyed woman staring right at me. It’s only a glimpse, but I can tell it’s not Delilah; she doesn’t have freckles, and her eyes are blue. (Plus, this is a grown woman while Delilah’s only 11.)

I open my eyes and my vision clears up. Add that to the list of things I’m gonna ask about later.

With nothing else to do, I walk towards the entrance. My heart is not at its resting rate as I do. All the eyes that were locked onto me before remain so. I approach the front door, grab the handle, and freeze. But not for long. No point in holding up. I open the door and push through.

We’re not allowed in the classrooms until the bell rings, so I just head to the office, just to check and see if there’s anything I need to do. Sure enough, Agents Collins and Thompson are there, talking with the secretaries. Collins turns towards me.

“Hey Brock, Good morning,” he greets. “Ready for your first day back?”

I wasn’t expecting that, so I hesitate before answering “I guess.”

He smiles and scoffs. He turns away and says “Well, thanks for showing up here. Figured we’d have to call you in over here. We got a couple quick things to discuss before we get started.”

Oh great.

“At all times,” starts Thompson, “One of us will be in the classroom while the other stands guard outside. Any questions?”

“Yeah,” says 35 from inside me. “Will it always be the same one of you in each role, or will you be switching it up?”

“We’ll be switching it up every class period,” Thompson answers.

“What about lunch and recess?” I ask.

“We will both be sitting with you at the table, because that will be our lunchtime as well,” she explains. “As for recess, we’re still working on that.”

“And the halls?”

“We’ll be following you wherever you go.”

I am sooo gonna hate this.

“You’re not gonna watch us piss, are ya?” 35 blurts.

“No, we’ll just stand guard outside,” Collins assures. “We figure it’s already got to be awkward enough with the two of you in there.”

Well, you’re not wrong.

“Any other questions?”

I think for a second. I genuinely cannot think of anything.

“No, that’s it,” I say.

“One more thing,” Thompson adds. “No students, not even your friends, are going to be allowed to talk to you for at least two weeks. You understand?”

Of course. And I’ll be spending the rest of my life in a cage and in chains.

“I understand.”

Collins finishes with “Okay then, ready to go to your locker?”

The bell rings.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

We all leave the office, and work our way down the hallway to my locker. As I pass by, people are staring, and some even move out of my way. I feel judged. Like I’ve done something wrong. I’m a prisoner on death row about to be executed. Seriously, how do I know that I’m not in Hell?

I eventually make it to my locker. Running the lock to open it feels like a delicate act that’s easy to mess up. I do have a history of having to enter it multiple times, even without feeling like I’m a-

“Hey remember what we discussed last Thursday on the way to the FBI?” 35 reminds me.

Yeah. I’m not a monster. But then why do I feel so-

“They’re judging me, not you. Don’t worry about it.”

Right, right. They’re judging 35, not me. Not me, 35. 35, not me.

I put my backpack in my locker, pull my literacy textbook and folder out, and work my way towards Mr. Mancini’s class. Oh God, that’s literally where I woke up the first time! How’s everyone gonna react? Oh dear god, no! No!

“Do we need to do breathing exercises again?” 35 scolds.

Maybe…maybe…once I’m in class.

“No, we got to get to class,” I insist. “No time!”

No time. No time… No…time…

“Alright, then let’s hurry up,” they urge.

We walk quickly to my literacy class. My eyes narrow and tunnel through the halls to avoid the eyes looking at me. I try not to think about them. I just…work my way to class.

After what feels like an hour and fifty miles, I finally make it to the class room. I look down at the floor and hurry towards my seat. I drop everything onto my desk. I put my head down and close my eyes, in defiance of what’s happening, and what’s about to. I don’t care if this is actually happening. I don’t want it to. They should have locked me up! I don’t belong here! I never even wanted to come! I clench my hands into fists so hard, I feel my fingernails poking into my skin. Painful, but comforting. I’d rather that be all I’m dealing with…

My efforts turn out to be worthless. I hear the rest of my classmates start pulling in, as none of them want to be late. None of them are talking either, though. Even without looking up, I can tell they’re staring at me. Judging me. Probably whispering to themselves. I hear Agent Collins greet Mr. Mancini, and assure him that he’s got it all under control. I then hear a man’s footsteps approach me.

“Brock, right?” Mr. Mancini asks.

I nod my head without lifting it first.

“Hey, just so you know, I understand that what you’re going through can’t be easy.”

Putting it mildly!

“So, if you need to go out in the hall to calm down at any moment, don’t hesitate to do so. You don’t need my permission.”

I raise my head and look at him in the eyes. Is he being helpful, or is he saying-

“But in the meantime, do you think you’ll be able to sit through class without causing any disruptions?”

I pause, look around the classroom. There aren’t as many eyes on me as I thought, but it still feels scary. I take in a deep breath, sigh, and quietly say “yeah, I won’t.”

He looks down for a second, then looks back up.

“And you…the other one? You’re not gonna disrupt the class either, right?”

 “Absolutely not. Most I might do is pick up the slack in case my host falls behind. I’m not supposed to talk to anyone anyway. And please, call me 35.” They sound so assuring as they answer. “Say the number if you need anything, okay?”

Mr. Mancini looks almost stunned. I don’t know what he expected, but clearly it wasn’t the friendly tones 35 is giving off right now.  Nevertheless, he responds with a “thank you” before heading back to his desk.

The bell rings again. After a couple more minutes, Mr. Mancini tells everyone “Good morning” and starts roll call. Since my last name starts with the letter “w,” I’m the last one as usual. Except when I’m in class with that one girl, Allison Wright, then I’m second-to-last. It makes the process like watching a candle slowly burn through a rope holding up a blade. I’ve always felt like there’s something weird about my name. It just sounds so…odd. Like it’s not a property of me, just a designation. Whatever. He finishes roll call and moves to the front of the classroom.

“Alright everybody, welcome back. Before we get started, I have to get a few things out of the way. First of all, as you all may have noticed, Brock is now back with us, and he will be joining us again for the rest of the semester at least.”

Several eyes turn towards me. A hand goes up.

Mr. Mancini signals it down and continues. “Before anyone asks, yes, the shadowy figure is with him. They’re under strict orders not to talk to anyone, except for me, and only when I ask them something. So, please do not go up to Brock and try to talk with them. They’re also not supposed to leave Brock’s body during school hours. So don’t ask that of them either.”

They all turn back towards him.

“And also joining us, in order to keep us safe, is Agent Collins from the FBI.”

Everyone turn towards Collins, and he raises his hand and smiles as if it could be anyone besides the man in his 30’s wearing a suit and tie.

“And his partner, Agent Thompson, who’s waiting out in the hall.”

She peeks in through the still-open door, and waves without smiling. She silently asks if she should close the door, to which Mr. Mancini nods.

“They are here to keep us safe, in case the shadow does anything out of line. Please just let them do their jobs and do not talk to either of them, unless the shadow gives you trouble, Are there any questions?”

A hand shoots up.

“What’s the shadow’s name?”

“Uh…I think it’s…35?” He turns towards me.

Using my head, 35 gives a soldier’s nod.

“Okay then. Anyone else?”

Another hand shoots up.

“Is 35 a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know.” He turns back towards me. “Would you mind telling us?”

In a calm, emotionless voice borrowed from me, 35 answers “Classified.”

“Does the FBI know?” Shouts one of my classmates.

“We do not.” Agent Collins answers. “Despite our efforts, 35 adamantly refuses to disclose their gender.”

“So, do we use ‘he’ or ‘she?’” asks yet another one of my classmates.

Can we please just stop this and move on with the lesson?

“In situations like that, we often say ‘he or she,’” Mr. Mancini answers. “But sometimes, we use ‘they,’ especially if the person in question is not hypothetical. Any other questions?”

Wait, that’s always been a thing?

A hand in the back shoots up.

“Yes Jess?”

“What about that freaky cyborg-thing? It’s not coming back, is it?” Jess asks, sounding scared.                                                                                                                      

“Um…”

“That was me,” I shout. “Not 35, the real, honest-to-god, me.”

Everyone stares at me, wide-eyed. I plop my head down.

“Don’t ask. I hate it. Yes, I am still in here. Can we please move on?” I beg.

Everyone falls silent, until Mr. Mancini breaks it. “I believe so, Mr. Weaver. Let’s get on with the lesson plan.” He jerks all of a sudden. “One last thing: I understand that this may be hard, but please do not let any of our guests distract you from this class. So, I feel the need to say this again, do not talk to any of them unless you absolutely have to. Capisce?”

A few students answer softly to confirm, and Mr. Mancini begins the lesson.

He spends the lecture going over “claim, evidence, and warrant,” and passes out sheets for us all to practice on it. Right before the bell rings, he gives us our vocab for suffixes this week. As I get up, I get a glance of the mirror I saw my soul in last week. I see a flash of that image, which causes me to flinch and hurry towards my next class.

My next class is Biology with Mrs. Melvin. This class goes by much the same as Literacy. Alexia was supposed to meet me here, but she’s gone. As soon as this class is done, I text her.

“Hey, where are you at? I’m back at school and was hoping to see you here.”

The next class is math, where I turn in my overdue homework. Mr. Vance fortunately takes “I was possessed by a shadow entity,” as a valid reason as to why. It goes by the same way as the last two.

Fourth period is where I finally run into Nat, in geography. He runs up to me as soon as he sees me, but stops four feet away.

“The shadow’s not gonna hurt me, right?” he nervously asks.

35 rolls my eyes.

Nat gives me an offended “Hey!”

“That wasn’t me!” I quickly explain. “It was them! They felt….” Darn! I lost the words.

“Disgusted at that question,” 35 thinks to me.

“…disgusted by your question,” I finish.

Nat hold his hands up in front of himself with his palms facing towards me. “Hey, I’m sorry, just don’t want to die, you know?”

“He is forgiven.” 35 states.

“They forgive you.” I then realize I should explain this. “They’re not allowed to talk to anyone except the teachers, the FBI, and me.”

“Right,” he says. “Well, if you need-”

He’s cut off by Agent Thompson.

“Young man,” she says. “Could you please keep a bit more distance? We need to make sure everyone is safe.”

Before either of us can say anything else, the bell rings, signaling us to get in our seats.

“I’m here if you need me!” Nat calls out as he takes his.

“Thank you,” I answer quietly.

This class goes by the same as the other three, but at least I feel a little bit easier with Nat in the room with me. Surely, if anything goes wrong, he’d step in and help, right? I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I feel a bit safer either way.

I could swear I hear 35 scoff at this…

It isn’t too long before the bell rings again and then it’s time for lunch. In order to keep me away from everyone else, Agent Collins gets in line for me, while Thompson sits me down at our own table away from everyone else. She doesn’t allow anyone else to sit with us, although Nat’s the only one who tries.

Eventually, Collins comes back with my tray and slides it over to me. He then pulls out a couple of lunch boxes with sandwiches he and Thompson brought for their food. My sad excuse for a pizza looks even sadder compared to what they’re eating.

I usually eat alone; I’ve gotten used to it. In fact, it feels weird having to sit with these two and have a ghost inside me.

“I definitely prefer ‘ghost’ to ‘demon,’” comments 35.

Anyway, this is somehow worse. I can’t explain how or why, but being required to be by myself is worse than people just not choosing to sit with me. Why is that?

“Maybe because there was a lingering hope that someone would sit with you, and now even that has been extinguished,” 35 answers unprompted. “Just a guess, of course.”

I’m…not sure what to say to that. Except now I’m not sure which is worse.

I silently eat my food, all the while the two agents have their own conversation. Not sure what they’re talking about. Collins comments on how sad my meal is. I don’t respond. I just finish up and wait for one of them to so I can just wait in my next class without bothering to go outside for recess.

It’s a study hour for me. Like the other classes, the teacher gives a lengthy introduction about 35 and the FBI, but this time, there’s no lesson, because it’s just a moment for me to catch up on work. Alexia would also meet me here, but she must not be at school today, cause she’s not here either. Oh well. I just work on my literacy homework the whole time. I never get to my math before next period. So, I move on to Environmental Science.

That class, as the two after that, are uneventful. The day ends with me walking out of school with all of my homework in my backpack. Thompson and Collins stand behind me as I wait for mom to show up. 35 takes this chance to leave my body. They stretch like they’ve been sitting in a car this whole time.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early to be hopping outside like that?” questions Collins.

“Hey! School’s out! And I really do not like being in that body!” Exclaims 35.

Okay, I did not expect that. If they hate my body that badly, why did they possess it in the first place? Eh, whatever. I guess don’t like it either.

Eventually, she pulls up, and it’s at that point that the agents say goodbye. Collins opens the car door for me. I hop in, and he closes it. They wave as we pull away.

“So, how was school?” Mom asks as if she’s supposed to.

“It was…okay.” I always answer that, and she always wishes I’d add more to it.

But today, she just takes that as an acceptable answer. I feel a strange mix of relief, and sadness. Sure, it’s annoying when it happens, but I guess I…kind of wanted her to? What is up with me?

It doesn’t matter. The ride home is just as quiet as the one to school this morning.

Eventually, we pull up to our house. I waste no time heading straight for my room. I plop on my bed immediately upon entering, face down.

Please tell me this is not going to be the rest of my school life.

“It is,” 35 answers bluntly. “Well, okay that’s not true. You’ll have November through May your Senior year without me.”

Ugh.

I pull out my phone. Alexia responded! I sit up and read her text.

“hey friend, sry, fam keeping me out of skool 4 2 weeks. They wan now ur safe :( .”

Dang it. I really wanted to see her! I was hoping maybe she could help me. Somehow.

I look through the rest of my texts. Dad also texted me.

“Hey Kemosabe, I’ll be back this Saturday, and I wanted to let you know we’ll be discussing whether or not you can come hunting with me this year. I understand you like doing it, but given your new guest, I’m not sure if we could do that. But we’ll see what we can do, though, I promise.”

Okay, but wasn’t he trying to…

“By the way, sorry about the whole handcuff thing. Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on keeping you cuffed up forever. I just needed something to keep him under control. I love you! See you this weekend.”

35 scowls.

Right. Hunting. Dad used to take me deer hunting back in Kansas. Said that eventually I’d be filling in the shoes. That I’ll be the man of my own house one day. That hunting will help me “take up that mantle.”

I get it. It’s important to hunt, especially in places where predators have been wiped out, such as here. Plus, it funds wildlife conservation and parks and rec for people who don’t. And mom makes deer jerky better than any beef jerky I’ve ever had.

But it feels weird to say that would make me the “man” of the house. Besides, I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. I would make a horrible husband and even worse father. Oh god, I can’t be a father! What Hellish world would I have condemned that poor kid to!?

“You gonna do your homework, or you gonna keep spiraling like that?” 35 interrupts my gloom.

I don’t answer, instead I just reach for my backpack, and get working on it. Yeah, they’re right. No need to worry about my future. My nonexistent future. I’ll face it when the time comes.

Towards the end, mom slowly opens the door and knocks on the doorframe.

“Hi, can I talk to you for a second?” she quietly asks.

We both look at her.

“Brock,” she clarifies.

 Reluctantly, I say “yes?”

She holds out a teddy bear. What the- Didn’t Dad get rid of-

“I know your dad made you get rid of him, but I thought you might need him.”

Brownie! She’s holding Brownie, my old teddy bear! He’s dark brown, soft, squishy, and I loved to hug him. He always felt pleasant against my skin.

Then one day, when I was ten, dad decided I was too old for stuffed animals. He grabbed him off my bed, and walked out of my room without saying anything or asking if it was what I wanted. Despite feeling heartbroken, I didn’t say or do anything. I just obeyed my dad. What else could I do?

I’m excited inside, but don’t really show it.

“I thought he threw him away?” I ask calmly, trying to hide that I was glad to see him

“He was about to, but before he could, I grabbed him and put him in a box when he wasn’t looking,” she explains. “I just thought maybe you should hold onto him, for keepsakes.”

I go up to her, and gently reach for Brownie. He’s just as soft as the day he was taken away from me. I pull him in close to me, and reach to give mom a hug, but she backs away.

“I’m giving you this in case you need someone while I’m not going to be there to tuck you in.”

I stare directly at her.

“I’m still getting used to 35, maybe I’ll go back to tucking you in after I get used to him, but I don’t know when that’s gonna be.”

I cannot believe this.

“I also put crystals on top of your doorway,” she adds. “Hopefully, they’ll keep you safe.”

I turn around. Sure enough, there’s a few of them sitting on top of the frame.

“Be sure to charge them by putting them under the full moon.”

Wait, I thought she was Catholic?

“Uh, Mom, since when did you believe in things like that?”

“I don’t. But at this point, I would like all the help I can get both me and you. My mom taught me this stuff anyways.”

I truly do not know what to make of this. I mean, I guess I’m a teenager, I don’t need to be tucked in, but…

Ugh! Do I really want her to? Why? I’m not sure if I even like her, so why do I want her to tuck me in at night? Ah, forget it. And also-

“Hey mom, how come I haven’t ever heard much about my grandparents on your side?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she pauses before telling me “Delilah and I are about to eat dinner. You can come out once we’ve finished.”

Any minute sense of direction I had in regards to what to think and feel before vanished. Mom’s giving me my long-lost teddy bear back, but is telling me I can’t eat with her and my sister?

“Text me if you need anything. I love you,” she says before turning around and leaving. I never say anything.

I turn towards 35, but their face is unreadable. They must be just as confused as I am. Oh well. No use asking them anything, I guess.

I crawl back onto my bed, finishing my homework with Brownie hugged tightly up against me with one arm. I do not want to let him go again. He’s the only good thing that has come from this whole fiasco, and I’m not about to lose it!

It isn’t too long before I finish my homework and then work my way to the kitchen. On the table, there’s a plate with chicken nuggets, mac and cheese, and applesauce. Next to the plate: there’s a note that says “please put in the sink when you’re done! -xoxo mom.”

I don’t waste any time wolfing down the food and putting the plate in the sink. It’s spent in silence. Even 35 doesn’t talk. Dang, even my lunches at school are not this quiet. Oh well.

It’s already almost dark out, so I go ahead and get ready for bed (thank goodness 35 and I have finally worked around everything! Or at least started too.) But this time, instead of putting on my pajamas, I just put on my underwear and call it good. It’s easier to hug Brownie.

“Do you mind if I at least lay on the bed?” requests 35. “It feels like I’m being a lot more friendly and a lot less creepy than if I were to just sit on the chair and watch you.”

I think about that for a moment. On one hand, they’re right. Having them sit in that chair is a bit unnerving for some reason. But we’re hardly close enough for them to sleep with- well, next to me. Then again, they also seem to always wake up in-

“How about just re-enter me? We can pretend to be the same person then,” I suggest. “You always wake up in me anyway.”

They blink. “I…guess I could try, but it’s hard for me to relax in your body, so it might be a bit hard for me to sleep.”

“Then how come you keep waking up in my body?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s a mechanic. I have to sleep in your body, so once I try to sleep, I’m pulled in or something.”

“’Mechanic?’”

“A feature. A property.”

“Yeah, I reckoned as much, but that’s still an interesting word choice.”

“Still, it’s not something I can control in any case.”

“Then why not just go to sleep inside me from the start?”

They take a moment, seemingly to decide whether or not they want to tell me. What could possibly make them not want to?

“Remember what you told me Friday morning?” they ask.

“What?” I really don’t remember. Or rather, what thing specifically. We did talk a bit.

“About the screeching?” they clarify.

Screeching? What-OH. Right. That screeching. “Right. Yeah, what about it?”

“I hear it too.”

What!?!?

“Whenever I’m in your head.”

So wait, does that mean…?

“Yes, you really do have such an unquiet mind.”

“But you can’t hear it when you’re outside?”

“No. I don’t.”

“So, the problem is my mind then?”

“Well, yes and no,” they say, sounding like they’re trying to be cautious. “There’s nothing inherently wrong with you, but-”

“But what?”

“Let’s just save it for tomorrow. I’ll sleep in the chair.” They plop into my computer chair. “Goodnight.”

That was…abrupt, sudden. Is 35 hiding something?

It doesn’t matter. They fall asleep, and I try to do my best to do the same.

****

I wake up in my room, or what looks like my room. The walls are empty, the door is gone, and the window is shining a bright light into my room. I sit up in my bed, and look towards the window. A girl with long blonde hair stands facing the window.

I’ve seen this before, but it’s different this time. There’s words scribbled all over the otherwise white and clean walls around her. I peer over the edge of my bed, to see that the floor has had the same thing done. Words like “freak,” “worthless,” “outcast,” and “inferior being,” darken the scene around her.

As she stands there, she’s crying. Her head is leaning down, and her hands are on her face. As she cries, she tries to say something.

“I-I’m, never going to leave, aren’t I? I’m stuck here forever!” she sobs.

What is she talking about? She’s not stuck here-

I notice a chain around her ankle. She is stuck here.

 “You’re never going to let me out, are you?”

Wait, is she talking to me?

Before I can answer, I am hit with the sudden feeling of falling through the floor.