Page 13 of Not Your Hero

“Ma’am? You said your ex-boyfriend was inside, correct?”

“Yes. Brandon. Brandon Sulton.”

“On the couch?”

“Yes. He wasn’t breathing. Oh my God. He wasn’t breathing!” I cry harder now. The officer looks from me to Mitch, but he just shrugs.

“Ma’am, we checked your whole house. There’s no one in there,” he tells me.

“Wh-what? How can that be? He was there! He was on the couch!”

“There’s no one on the couch and no sign of him here,” he tells me. Confusion slams into me. That’s not possible. He was there.

“He’s in there! I saw him! I touched him, for fucks sake!” I yell louder.

“Why don’t you come with me and show me where he was,” he nods toward the door. I glance over at Mitch before looking back and nodding at the officer. I don’t want to go in there. I don’twant to see him like that. He was grey, and his skin was cold, so cold.

I follow the officer inside anyway, even while I’m a trembling mess. He ushers me in front of him, and I lead him to the living room and point, except … he’s not there.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” I ask, hiccupping a sob.

“You tell us. You called it in,” he replies.

“He was there! I sat down next to him. I have the text messages saying he was going to be here,” I tell him.

“Can we see those messages?” he asks. I nod my head, walk to the table, grab my phone, pull up Brandon’s name, and pass it to him.

He scrolls for a minute before looking at me as if I’m crazy once more.

“Ma’am, the last message from him says he doesn’t want to see you anymore.”

“What? No.” That’s not right. I grab the phone back and scroll through the messages. “Where are they? They were here!”

“I’m not sure what you’re going through right now, ma’am, but would you like me to call for transport to the hospital for you?” For me? What the hell does he think is wrong with me? It’s Brandon they need to be worried about!

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You seem to be hallucinating.”

“I’m not fucking hallucinating! Don’t you think this is all strange? I’ve called you out here multiple times for the weird things happening here.”

“I’m well aware of the number of calls, which is why I’m offering you help,” he returns calmly. He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I’m crazy. I run my free hand through my hair as I look around the room, not knowing what to do. He was here. He was right there on the couch.

“I just … he was … I don’t know,” I say more to myself than to him.

“Ma’am, if you refuse the transport, there’s really nothing else we can do here.”

“I’m not crazy! I’m not going to the hospital,” I tell him once more. He nods his head and motions to the other cop who’s across the room and I stand confused when they all leave.

The door closes behind them and I glance once more around the room. Am I going crazy? I shake my head. No. He was here. He was dead.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I ask myself. Did I drink so much that I’m seeing things now? I tug at my hair as I walk over to the couch and sit next to the spot where I saw Brandon sitting. With a shaky hand, I reach over and rest my palm on the seat.

“He was here. I know he was here,” I say to myself. I pull my phone in front of me and dial his number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“Br-Brandon? Umm. I don’t know what’s happening to me. I don’t know what’s going on. Can you … call me? Can you do that?” This is insane. I hang the phone up, thinking this isinsane. How is a dead guy going to call me back? He was dead. I checked. He was cold and pale. He wasn’t breathing.

I don’t know what to do with myself. I stay on the couch, running my hand through my hair, frustrated with everything.

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