The ride home was a blur. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare out the window with a blank expression and a numb heart. Both his parents had come, and his father drove while his mother coddled and fussed over him.

Are you alright.

Are you hurt.

Are you hungry.

Do you need anything.

They weren't even questions anymore. They were merely statements he didn't respond to. What did she care, anyway.

Sometime between the moment he got in the car and the moment they pulled into the garage, she called the police to tell them they'd found him and that he was okay.

"Hello."

"We found him. We found my baby boy."

"Is he hurt."

"Everything is okay."

"Is there anything else we can do."

"No. Thank you, Officer."

And then she checked his wrists and his stomach and even his thighs to make sure he hadn't hurt himself again, constantly asking him if he needed anything. He needed her to stop talking.

It was the longest two hours of his entire life.

Finally, they reached home, and he climbed out of the car as if in a trance. It seemed to him that he hadn't seen his house for months. Everything was different now. Quiet. Clancy wasn't there to hold him back. Nico wasn't there to tell him how awfully wrong everything was. And Josh wasn't there to smile at him and love him. Everything was empty.

His siblings were in the family room playing a game, but they quickly stopped and shuffled into the kitchen to meet him. They'd never cared before. Why did they care now. Why did anyone care. Why did people only notice him when something horrible happened. No. When something inconvenient happened. When they had to do something or be charged with negligence. How dare he inconvenience them like that.

"Hey, Tyler," Zack said.

"What." He stared blankly at him and didn't offer any sort of real response.

They all shifted uncomfortably, and he turned without another thought, only to run into his mother again.

"What do you need," she said.

"I need you to stop talking," he said.

"That is no way to talk to your mother," his father said.

"Sorry." Though he didn't mean it.

He started for the stairs, but he stopped him. "Where are you going."

"To my room."

"Don't you have anything to say to us."

"I shouldn't have run away," he said.

"You promised you wouldn't run away again," his mother said.

"I'm sorry." Though he still didn't mean it. "I won't do it again." He was telling the truth this time. He wasn't going to run away. He was going to stay in his room forever. He wasn't going to come out until the day he died.

"Tell me if you need anything," she said.

"Okay."

He waited. No one said anything.

"I need to go to bed," he said. "I have a headache." Which was true. He hadn't taken anything for it.

They didn't move.

"Why did you run away," she said. Her eyes were wet.

"He didn't want to be alone."

"Who."

"Josh. He didn't want to be alone."

"Who's Josh."

"My friend."

There was a pause.

"I'm calling Dr. Rothlesberger," she said.

He shrugged and went upstairs. She wouldn't do anything anyway. Why would she.

He took the knife out of his pocket and put it on the desk. He put his backpack on the floor and got out his notebook. He had to wait. No one else could know this. No one else could see this. No one but Josh. So he wrote a note and tore it out of the notebook.

Someone knocked on the door. "Tyler, may I come in."

"No," he said.

"Why not."

"I want to be alone."

"But you've been alone for almost two days."

"No, I haven't. I've been with Josh."

"Please listen. Josh isn't real."

"Yes he is."

"Tyler -"

"Go away."

So she went away.

He laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling for a while. He didn't think of much. He just waited. Then the waiting got old so he thought about what Nico had said to Clancy. They'd fought and then they'd run out and Nico had told Clancy to throw himself under a train. Had he really done it. Was that why they weren't here. They were both dead. Nico was right. He was a shell of a person without him. Being numb was exhausting.

A while later his mother knocked again. "We're going to see a neurologist. A psychologist," she said. "He wanted to meet with us first before you. Is that alright."

"That's fine. When will you be back."

"In a couple hours. I told Zack to stay home with you."

"Okay."

Then she left.

He waited until he heard the garage door close to leave his room and go back downstairs. Zack was on the couch. "You can go if you want," he said. "I won't tell Mom you're gone. Just be back in a few hours."

"I can't do that," he said.

"But you want to. Don't you."

Zack didn't say anything for a minute. Then he nodded. "Yeah. I want to. You won't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

"No." He wasn't stupid.

"Promise."

"Promise."

Zack nodded again and smiled. "Thanks. I'll be back later then."

Then Zack left and he was alone again, and it all started to come back. All the pain and the fear and the hurt in his chest, but also an odd sort of pride. He knew his siblings didn't want him around. They thought he was annoying and hated when he was with them. He knew his parents didn't want to spend all that money on doctors and therapists and medication for him, and he knew they hated babysitting him. He was going to be the best brother and the best son ever. He was going to give them exactly what they wanted.

He ran back upstairs, that anxious pride burning through his veins and spilling out his eyes, and grabbed the note. He knew Josh would never get it, but he had to tell someone.

The walk to the forest was freezing and windy, and it had started to snow. Everything was going to sleep for the winter. He was going to sleep for a while, too. It took him a moment to remember what day it was, but when he did, he just gave himself a wry smile.

Happy birthday to the best kid on the planet.

The path had never seemed so long and empty. Everything was white and black and grey. Just like he felt. No more orange. Just an eternal, inky black spreading through his soul and leaking from his eyes in the form of frozen tears.

He didn't even hesitate when he stepped off the path. It didn't matter if anything happened to him now. He'd already taken care of it. He climbed the fence, and when he hit the ground with a thud, he felt a burst of anger shock through his entire body like lightning. Where was He? Why had He allowed this to happen to him? Why had He let him be tormented by imaginary people and hated by the real ones his entire life? He clenched his fists as freezing hot tears ran down his cheeks, and glared up at the sky with as much anger as he could muster, but the anger melted to nothing but despair. A cold, soggy despair sunk deep into his bones and weight him down, dragging its ball and chain behind him as he trudged forward.

When he reached the treehouse, his feet and soul were sodden, and each breath was heavy as if he was breathing in nothing but water. The dread and despair were suffocating. He didn't bother putting the note in the box. He crumpled it up into a ball and threw it into the treehouse through the window.

And then the vultures seized him with their dreadful talons. He whipped around and broke into a run, desperate to get away from the pure terror that trailed behind him, hissing to itself and eager for the live feast.

Somebody help me!

Before he could shout, he heard something. A whisper in the trees. Nico's voice. Clancy's voice. Josh's voice. They spun around him, coming from everywhere and nowhere, each one throwing chains of pain and terror around him. He froze in panic and spun a circle in the snow, trying to see them, but there was no one there. He was alone.

He was breathing so fast he thought he might pass out, and he was shaking like a tree in a hurricane. He could barely stay upright, and the wind and tears blinded him until he was completely disoriented, and more afraid than he'd ever been in his entire life. He couldn't take it anymore. He tipped his head up to an empty sky and screamed in pure desperate hopelessness.

"Is anybody out there?"

He could feel the heavy chain wrap around his neck, and his heart dropped straight to his stomach and bounced up to his throat. He couldn't move his arms. He dug his fingernails into his forehead until he bled, and the drops of blood on the white snow were the first color he had seen since he'd left Josh. He clawed at his forehead as if he could tear into his brain and stop it all from happening. Where were they? Why were they here?

"Get out of my head!" he screamed.

The voices laughed in his face and ripped his heart to shreds. They told him things he told himself and screamed that he was a coward. Why couldn't he just do it already? It wasn't hard. Why was he screaming? He was pathetic. A useless waste of space. A burden everyone was eager to burn in hell. His only friends weren't even real. No one would miss him. No one would care. His parents left him the second they got the chance, even after driving hours to pick him up. He'd run away and no one had noticed he was gone. And now even his imaginary friends were gone. They hated him with their entire existence. But no one hated him more than himself.

"Haven't you taken enough from me?" he demanded, his voice cracking.

The sky only reacted harder, and the voices gripped his throat and dug their fingers into the cuts on his stomach until he was doubled over in agony. The tears froze on his face and his migraine split his skull in two. He staggered forward, but he didn't know where he was going, and the pain and the tears and the terror only multiplied until he couldn't hear the storm above or the wind in his ears.

"Please torture someone else," he breathed. He couldn't hear himself speak. "Please, I beg of you..."

The snow was hail now, pounding on his back like sheets of ice, falling harder and harder and crushing him into the earth as if nature itself was trying to hide him from the eyes of God. It buried its curse under blankets of guilt and shame, punishing him for everything he'd ever done, for every person he'd ever met, for every moment he'd ever lived.

Won't you say goodnight...

A strangled scream tore from his throat as the words slithered into his ears and crawled into his brain like leeches, sucking him dry and squeezing him until he couldn't breathe. He fell to his knees and let the voices rip him apart. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't live like this for the rest of his life. He couldn't stand to hear the voices of his only friends and the only person he'd ever loved tear him to pieces.

...so I can say goodbye?

And suddenly he wasn't afraid anymore.