Page 108 of Doesn't Count

The way their bodies ache on the hardwood floors doesn’t go unnoticed, but I know they won’t be the first ones to pull away, so I do it for them. I help my mother to her feet as my father pushes to his.

Clearing his throat, he nods behind me, reminding me that Hypnos is still here.

“Mr. and Mrs. Mathews.” He greets, a wobble in his voice.

“This is my friend James.”

My parents shake his hand as I finally shut the front door, closing me inside this new life.

“Please, let’s sit.” My mother urges, pulling me by the hand over to the living room couch.

Though the outside of the house seems the same, the inside has changed. Now painted in a light beige instead of the blue it used to be. The coffee table sits without flowers, theblinds shut and dusty, pictures of a young Oliver littering every surface. The space feels like the life has been sucked right out of it, vacuumed and tossed away as if it's as meaningless as the dirt it holds.

This isn’t at all what I imagined my parents' life to be after I left. I assumed they would have mourned me then moved on, but I can physically feel the pain that lingers in every inch of the walls that house them.

My mother lowers herself next to me on the couch, her hands clasped onto mine. Despite her frailty, there’s strength in her grip, reassuring me that she’s never letting go again. My father takes the flower-patterned chair next to us and Hypnos stands, leaning against the frame of the living room entrance.

There’s a patience to them and for that I’m grateful because I’m not sure where to even start or how much to tell them, so instead I begin with an apology.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come home sooner.” My gaze catches on a random carpet fiber, the thought of looking at them feels too heavy.

“Son.” My father’s voice is soft. “What happened?”

I swallow. Fear, shame, and horror battle it out inside of me. I gnaw the skin on my lower lip, trapping the word vomit that’s desperate to escape.

“Was it us? Did we do something?” My mother asks hesitantly like she doesn’t really want to know the answer.

“No!” I deny, shaking my head vehemently. “God no. Please don’t ever think that!”

“How could we not? You disappeared for ten years and next thing we know you’re famous, touring the world. What are we supposed to think?” She cries.

“We buried you.” My father whispers incredulously.

My mouth pops open and shut a few times before I finally settle on the truth. I start from the beginning, that day in thewoods with Ash. I’m careful with what I divulge, the details at this point seem too much for their fragile hearts and quite honestly, I’m not ready to relive those days either.

It doesn’t seem real, me sitting here with my parents again. I can sense the conflicting emotions overtaking them. They can’t figure out if they’re grateful or horrified, relieved or angry and that’s okay.

“I just didn’t know how to face you guys after everything that’s happened. I was afraid that if I came home, they would just find me again.” I explain. “And I couldn’t risk going back.”

My mother wails next to me and I pull her close, her tears soaking my shoulder.

“We would never let that happen. You’re home now, Oliver. You’re safe.” My father reassures me.

The urge to tell him“but it did happen”sits at the edge of my tongue, never taking flight. I can’t be angry at them for what happened, it’s not their fault. Hell, it’s not even my fault, but I’m angry, nonetheless. I want nothing more than to believe their words, to believe I’m safe because that would be a dream. It would also be naive. Even if the cult never comes after me again, it doesn’t mean the police won’t. Reading my mind, my father clears his throat.

“I hate to do this because we’ve just got you back, but we’ve been told that if you do come home, we’re supposed to let the police know.”

Pursing my lips, I nod my head.

“They think Ashton is involved somehow.” My mother whispers, eyes questioning.

“She’s not. Never has been.”

“Well, she’s involved now, isn’t she? There’s a picture of you two in the paper.” There’s an accusation to her tone that doesn’t sit well with me.

“Look,” I chuckle, wondering how to explain somethingunexplainable. “She showed up one day on a job assignment and she had no idea it was me.”

“Kha- Oliver just told her today.” Hypnos jumps in.

---