Page 107 of Doesn't Count

Neither of us make a move, sitting there in the protection of Hypnos’ Civic, delaying what is now inevitable. He can sense the tension quaking my body, my knees bouncing a mile a minute, my nails tearing at the skin on my fingers, making them bloody and raw.

“Have you been back?” He asks when he realizes where I’ve had him take us.

“No.”

My voice cracks at the admission, my throat closing, the rest of my body shutting down from the anxiety. Once that door opens, I know everything will change forever. The life Khaos created will come crashing down, shattering in the same heap that makes up Oliver and when those pieces are ready to be picked up, the two will be indistinguishable. Khaos will no longer exist without Oliver. All that work I’ve done to keep Oliver buried will be for nothing.

He nods. “Do you want me to go in there with you?”

“I don’t-”

“I can. I’m mad as hell at you for lying to me all these years,but I still know you. You’re still my brother.” Hypnos finally looks at me for the first time since we got in the car. “I don’t know the full story, I don’t know why you never went home, but there’s obviously a reason. Knowing you, it’s probably a good damn reason, too.”

I swallow, my throat aching from the emotions balling up inside of me, threatening to break free.

“Okay.”

Hypnos trails behind me as I trudge my way to the front door. My vision narrows, a black veil clouding my periphery as the world begins to turn sideways. My heart races, working overtime to circulate my blood quick enough, and I’m afraid it just might give out. Wouldn’t that be ironic? Finally here to tell my parents I’m alive, just to die on their front porch.

I nearly chuckle to myself, but my nerves prevent any sound from leaving my lips. My stomach feels like a wash cycle in the laundry, spinning at high speed, creating an urge to vomit. Hypnos’ hand juts out, his fingers wrapping around my arm as I stumble on my own two feet.

“Relax. We can just stand here for a minute if you want.” He holds me steady with both hands on my shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Together, we step up onto the porch and I knock on the navy-blue door, just below the Christmas wreath that still hangs there. Instant regret seizes me, locking every muscle inside my body.

What did I just do?

My feet suddenly pivot, ready to bolt. I shouldn’t have come here. These people; they aren’t my parents. They’re Oliver’s and he doesn’t exist anymore. He shouldn’t exist anymore. He’s a monster, a deviant, a sinner. There’s no way they’ll welcome someone like that into their home, at least theyshouldn’t. And if they do, then it’s my responsibility to protect them from the animal he was.

Hypnos grabs onto the sleeve of my coat, stopping me from going anywhere. The look in his eyes begs me not to run away from this and as much as I want to – as much as I need to – I know I shouldn’t.

Before a protest can leave his mouth, the door swings wide open. In slow motion, I turn to face the owner of this house, my psyche not even close to being prepared for this moment. The moment I’ve thought about for ten years. The moment I begged and prayed for, a moment that was brutally denied time and time again. The moment I’ve put off because the detrimental fear of being rejected will kill me.

After all those years of unanswered pleas to merciless deities, I have had to take my fate into my own hands. I answered all my own prayers and now here I am, creating my own divine intervention.

My eyes clash with a reflection of my own, round golden irises glittering with disbelief and shock. There’s a good minute of suspended time where we both stand still, unmoving, afraid that with just a quick blink of an eye, we’ll find that this is all a mirage, a trick of the brain playing on our grief.

But I break first, “Mom.”

The reality in front of her is too much to comprehend, her body giving out beneath her. I dive to my knees, catching her in my arms before she can hit the ground, the door slamming against the inside wall with a loud bang.

“Jan? Jan are you okay?” Footsteps pound above us as a deep voice calls out for my mother.

At the top of the stairs stands a tall man. Thinner than he used to be with hair grayer than I remember and though his face has more wrinkles, and his eyes hold deeper circles, he’s still the only man I will call my father.

With a sharp, painful gasp, he falls to his ass on the top step as his hand grips onto the railing. He doesn’t allow more than a couple seconds to collect himself before rushing to us. I can tell he’s worried about his wife, but the urge to hold onto me seems to win.

Dropping to his knees beside us, he wraps me in his arms and rocks us while intermittently trying to rouse my mother. Nothing will break your heart more than witnessing your own father cry for you. Deep, unapologetic sobs.

I feel my mother stir in my arms, her eyes fluttering open.

“Oliver.” She chokes out as she pulls herself up.

And just like that, Oliver Matthews is alive and well, safely back in the arms of his own parents.

Her soft, weathered fingers encase my face, turning it this way and that, taking me in. I’ve changed. They missed out on crucial years, the transition from boy to man. The same as I’ve missed the way they’ve aged over time; each wrinkle, each gray hair.

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