He was confused and shocked and worried all at once. Too much was happening and there were too many unanswered questions.
He felt lightheaded as he lay back onto the cheap pillow. He looked up at the ceiling and wondered how he could've went this long, twenty-two years, without knowing that there was something wrong with him. He didn't know if some of the things he'd experienced had been real or fake, like the bird he and Caroline had buried or the bones poking through her skin.
"How?" he half mumbled, half choked out.
The words felt like gasoline in his mother's throat, burning and tasting like acid. She didn't want any of this for her son, her smart, beautiful, almost perfect son.
"The devil chooses, we don't."
He didn't want to hear her babble on about religion now. The God he had always hoped existed wouldn't do this to him or Caroline. His God wouldn't let demons make homes in the minds of people, beautiful people who would never think of hurting anyone other than themselves.
"I've lived twenty-two years and I haven't even noticed?"
His mother nodded, tears starting to line her eyes.
"How do I know what's real?"
She had to tell him now, had to break it to him while he was taking it all in. She mumbled a quick prayer, God being her only compass in this whole situation, and took his hand in hers, wrapping her fingers around his.
"Listen, I would never tell you anything that wasn't going to help you. What I'm about to say is going to hurt you, probably the worst you've ever been hurt, but it's for the best."
He was scared now, hands shaking and lungs burning scared.
"She was all in your head, baby."
It took him a few moments for it to set in and when it finally did the only color he could see was red. He could hear his heart beat and his blood rush to his head. He started thrashing, trying to hit or kick whatever was closest and the last he could remember was his mother yelling for a medic and a feeling of deep betrayal resting in the pit of his stomach.
