Josslyn shuffles her foot against the plush carpet and lifts the hem of her jean jacket. Her watch ticks to 7:33pm and Wyatt wasn't comfortable navigating back to Eugene in complete darkness. The storm brewing in the distance wasn't going to help either.

She stares toward the balcony. Wyatt's out there, leaning against the railing, contemplating in deep thought as he gazes toward the stacking cumulonimbus clouds in the distance.

Josslyn bites her bottom lip sheepishly, completely unsure how to mend the situation. In fact, she's quite often unsure about herself as of recently. Here Wyatt is, wrapped up emotional turmoil and all she can think about is their sleeping arrangement. She'd rather sleep on the floor than share this queen bed with Wyatt! Edwin would be furious.

Ugh! She scratches the back her head in annoyance. Where's the manual to mend the heart of a corporeal man?! No one other than Edwin has ever comforted her. She's been alone all her life and she doesn't know how to make someone else feel better.

Sighing heavily and feeling very much ashamed of her selfishness, she reluctantly saunters toward the balcony. Leaning beside him on the railing, she breathes deeply the evergreen conifers and sweet scent of pending rain. Oregon smells like a car freshener.

"Wyatt." She looks up at him and watches his side profile, his eyes stare off into oblivion as he rubs his thumbs together in lost thoughts.

"Wyatt," Josslyn plants a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention. "I think you'd be a great dad."

He creaks a weak smile, and without a single glance at her, takes the hand resting from his shoulder and kisses it. He holds her hands firmly against his chest and she whimpers softly at the steady beating of his heart. His hands feel warm, the callouses from lifting all those weights chafe against her petite soft skin. Edwin wouldn't like this. Josslyn jerks away from him and senses his immediate disappointment.

Twiddling her sweaty fingers, she attempts to comfort him by trying to at least be relatable. She clears her throat. "My father wasn't a great dad. He was a...bad man." She knows she just piqued his undivided interest.

Bad man? Wyatt immediately correlates it with her imaginary friend. "How was your father a bad man, Josslyn?" His eyes narrow with intrigue.

Josslyn gulps. She knows that if she begins this story, she must end it. "He's the one who locked me up in the attic."

"You're father did that?" He scrunches his brow in utter disbelief. He stiffens and his eyes light up with a malicious motivation that further unnerved Josslyn. "Where is he? Where is that bastard?--excuse my language." He rubs his lips.

Josslyn nods a silent 'excused'. "I don't know where he is anymore. I'm not sure I want to know. All I know is that I was a mistake to him; a mistake he didn't have to live with, one he doesn't have to love." She gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that Wyatt is aware harbors and conceals many more untold secrets. "He broke my heart. I was nine years old and I blamed myself for driving him away. I destroyed my family and my Mother died because--" I wouldn't give Edwin up. "--of a heart-attack, an onset of stress, at least that's what the doctor said. I must be a harbinger of...doom. Who would want someone like me--someone...so unstable?" Josslyn chokes back tears.

"Josslyn." Wyatt cups her face, "what happened is not your fault. You're wrong. You are not the harbinger of doom and I want you. I want you."

Josslyn huffs in disbelief and removes Wyatt's hands from her face. "Wyatt, trust me, you don't want me. You see? There's a reason why my Mother was an accomplice with my Father. Unwilling to protect me, she watched him lock me up in that attic for many years. There is a reason why the the town outcasted, bullied, and feared me. No one ever protected me, Wyatt. No one believed me... and no one has ever believed me..."

"Believed what?"

She adverts her eyes. Forcing her attention, Wyatt grabs onto her shoulder. "Believe what, Josslyn?" He searches for her hazel brown irises that now swallows in sorrow.

"That I'm not crazy," said Josslyn.

"Crazy?"

Her lips seal into a line. "That I do indeed, in clarity - see an invisible man."

A cold chill runs down Wyatt's spine as lightning streaks across the looming clouds. The hair on his back stand erect as he rubs his forehead with entangled perplexity. "Uh, I-I don't know what to say--"

"I'm not crazy, Wyatt." Josslyn reinforces. "I see him. I see Edwin. But no one believed me and my Father, he locked me up because he said I was lying so he made me lie to everyone that I don't see an invisible man when I really see him! I tried to take them into the fog; I tried to show the community that Edwin exists but no one would listen to me and my Father hated me.

I was so angry because Edwin couldn't protect me and I hated him for that! I hated that he couldn't just go away and that I had to pretend all my life that he doesn't exist. But they just didn't know! They hurt me for no reason." Her bottom lip tremble in heartache.

"I told them the truth and they punished me! They took away my childhood when they drugged me until my muscles grow stiff, my tongue--limp in my mouth, I couldn't speak for myself. I couldn't even defend myself. I was so fucking drugged up that I couldn't rise out of bed. Left a limbless, lifeless vegetable, I rotted on that bed; locked inside that prison. But they just don't know, they'll rot in hell for what they did to me!" She grits her teeth. " I wasn't lying! They're the liars because he does exist! He does exist! I was never crazy and I am still not crazy! I am not crazy!"

Wyatt took a step back and blinked a few times. He shook his head, dazed, confused and light headed from the information overload while Josslyn pants hard, tears brimming in her eyes.

How the hell does someone respond to all this? Thought Wyatt, I need to think. He leads Josslyn into the bathroom, hands her a towel and ran hot water for her.

"Take a shower, Josslyn. It'll make you feel better." He said curtly and walked out of the restroom.

Edwin again? Wyatt palm slaps his forehead, running his hands across his hair. There is something very wrong with this woman. Damn, she isn't a puzzle; she's a maze without an outlet! He wants badly to check her background record but he couldn't help feeling as though he'd be violating her trust. But what's there to trust? Her story doesn't make any sense. It's highly implausible! This has got to be schizophrenia. Wyatt caught himself pacing around the hotel room.

He paces some more.

Maybe this invisible Edwin is some delusional psychiatric way she's dealing with her lock-ups. Yes! That's got to be it. Or maybe, it's her way of dealing with someone who's passed on, like her brother? Or past husband? Could she have been married? But...

He stops pacing. He starts again.

Who is that man in the woods from last month? Wyatt is certain that he heard a man yelling from the forest. She claims it's Edwin which must mean that Edwin is real but if Edwin is real, where the hell Edwin? No! It's not possible! There's no such thing as an invisible man...is there?

Wyatt cinches his brow together and groans. Fucking headache.

Hearing soft whimpers, he checks in on Josslyn who has now huddled into a ball underneath the shower. Wyatt hangs his head low. For someone as private as Josslyn, it must have taken courage to admit something so intimate - no matter how absurd the story may seem. It's clear to see she's in a lot of anguish and no matter how unbelievable her story is, those emotional scars feel incredibly real. Her pain is real - that much he knows for sure.

He enters the bathroom and helps lifts her naked body onto her feet, expecting her to protest but she doesn't. She just stands there, head down, and sobbing under water.

"C'mon," Wyatt pulls a clean towel and turns off the running water. He climbs into the shower stall and drapes the towel around her body as he holds her in his arms. "It's okay to cry. Sometimes that's all we've got."

"You believe me right?" She whimpers and presses her head against his chest. "You believe that I'm not crazy?"

I don't know but Wyatt's aware a delicate question warrants a delicate answer. He doesn't want to lie to her. He can only tell her the truth. "If criminals are innocent until proven guilty, then you have the right to be sane until proven crazy."

With those words, Josslyn sobs harder than she's ever done. She feels a heavy weight life off her soul, someone has finally given her a chance. And not just anyone--it's the person she had always regarded with the least respect. Wyatt.

She glances at him but quickly averts her gaze. After all, she's a married woman and something just felt wrong when her gaze lingered a bit too long.

Wyatt pulls her closer into his warm embrace. He wipes the water her off body, cocoons her in another dry towel and cradles her to sleep by the edge of the bed. Then he slams the weight of his body onto the armchair in the corner and watches her sleep as he contemplates how to prove that she is indeed, not crazy.

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