Page 46 of The Otherworld

Understood.

Changing him to past tense over and over again.

Accepting it

over

and over

and over again.

I can’t.

I just can’t.

Feeling numb, I walk across the room and pick up my phone. I untangle my charge cord and plug it into the wall. I watch the battery icon flash on the screen, waiting for it to get enough power to turn on.

I don’t know how long I stand there watching it. Everything around me fades into a blur of I don’t give a shit. Blips of insignificant moments passing, silent and senseless.

I wonder if that’s how the rest of my life will feel.

At last, my phone powers on, and I decide to find out what is real—once and for all. I call Adam one last time and bring the phone to my ear to listen to it ring…

And ring…

And—

Someone picks up.

“Orca?” I say, my heart thudding. “Are you all right? I tried calling you last night, but you didn’t answer.”

A long moment of silence, then:

“Yeah, Orca’s fine. She’s right here. Do you want to talk to her?”

No way.

No.

Damn.

Way.

My heart does a backflip and drops through the bottom of my stomach. “Adam?”

“Hey, little brother.”

My knees buckle, and I crash to the floor, dropping my phone. I scramble to pick it up again, barely breathing. The room is spinning. Am I dreaming? I’m dreaming… I have to be dreaming—

“Adam!” I scream into the phone, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “You’re alive!? You’re alive!?”

He laughs like a superhero. “Yes. I’m alive, Jack.”

I lose it. I crumple into the fetal position and let myself sob, pressing my forehead to the floor. My body convulsing, I cry harder than I’ve ever cried in my life.

Before I know it, I’m gasping for air like a drowning man, and Adam is saying, “Hey. Hey, breathe, Jack. Breathe. It’s okay. Breathe.”

He makes it sound so easy. But I haven’t been able to breathe for a week.

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