William was everywhere. 

Walking with me to school, conversing over breakfast, playing on the basketball court, answering Mrs. Cole's Economics question and sitting beside me on the bus. He sometimes appears to be in my dreams, or sitting on my bed, or playing his guitar in the basement, or speaking to me through the walls and floorboards. The idea of Will and his nonexistence seemed like a silly joke now. It's all bullshit. He was never gone - he always comes back to haunt me. 

Maybe that's why my mother was clasping and unclasping her hands while Dad and I sat impatiently on the couches. She and Dad sat to the opposite of me so I could see a clear view of their placid faces. 

Dad was obviously too unstable to have whatever this talk was with me. He was running his hands through his dirty hair, eyes wild like he had been previously rummaging for liquor and repeatedly looking around him in paranoia. 

Mom gave him a look that would've stopped him if he had been focusing but he didn't. Finally, she began to speak. 

"Your father and I have decided to send you to Doctor Collins." 

My eyebrows shot up and I only suspected the worst. "And who might that be?" 

Mom looked uneasy before she said, "a psychologist. I think that you need to talk to someone about..." her eyes went dark and it looks like she's reached today's word limit. 

"We're sending you there because your mom thinks that you're hallucinating your brother," Dad stepped in before zoning out again and rubbing his thumb with his finger. 

I tried to speak but my mother cut me off quickly. "I just want the best for you," she said, but her voice was dull and dense as if she meant the complete opposite. Dad sat up and grabbed his car keys from the surface of the dinner table. 

"No, David," Mom exploded and pushed herself off the couch. With her bulging belly, I could see the strain written across her forehead in permanent marker. "This needs to stop." 

"Just one bottle," Dad muttered gruffly, making his way out the door while mom prodded herself behind him. 

"Liar. One leads to twenty. Are you about to raise a newborn baby with liquor lingering on your breath everytime you carry her? I don't want a tainted child." 

Dad turned around slowly after putting his hand on the knob. "Speak English, for fuck's sake. Don't try to stop me, for once." 

With venom laced in her voice, Mom started to rant about his upcoming drinking problem while I could do nothing but watch the sixth argument of the week. Dad was throwing bowling balls at Mom while she was tipping over - the best I could do was hold up the results, all in which contained mom's valid point. 

There was no point in watching. Dad was sober so that meant he wouldn't go as far as hitting mom, which he hadn't done yet and he wasn't the man to. Or at least he hadn't been. Sometimes I would press my ear against the door to listen for an intense slap and that would be when I would intervene. 

But for now, I trusted no one to get hurt. 

I bolted up the stairs, into my bedroom and searched for my phone. I unplugged it from the charger and quickly dialed Julia's number because I couldn't think of anything else. 

She answered on the second ring. "Are you okay?" 

I breathed out. It was the only question I was getting nowadays. "Yeah. No. Whatever - I just want to get out of here." 

"How about the park? Great weather, no-" 

"Just bring cigarettes with you." 

Julia sounded confused. "I never get you, Sarah James Black. I thought you hated them." 

"Just get them." 

* * *

"I'm Doctor Collins. You can call me Jamie if you like - a guy who you will probably end up hating or loving," my said psychologist gave me a false grin from his desk. I laid back in the chair opposing him, trying to understand how I ended up here.

Jamie looked like he was in his early forties with a very forced masquerade underneath his smile. He wore a long-sleeved striped shirt patterned with blue and white lines. The color of his shirt accentuated his dark eyes and wrinkly smile. He had dark brown hair with a very unshaved, tangled beard and a straight, erect back. 

Suddenly his smile fell. "Your parents talked me through everything that happened. You look like the type of girl that's going to be unascertained in our conversations, maybe even uncomfortable, but that's okay." I didn't expect what he said next. "We don't need to speak about your brother. I am paid to sit in this seat to make you feel better. So if talking about school, your parents, or not speaking at all makes you feel that way, then so be it." 

I felt overwhelmed by the options. Jamie was looking at me expectantly, observing my every movement, but not in an uncomfortable way. I carefully planned out my next words. 

"I'm fine with talking about my brother," I said before shrugging. 

Jamie nodded, took out some notepad and clicked his pen. He wrote quickly and smoothly across the paper and didn't look up when he asked, "what's the date?" 

I knew that he knew what day it was. This was some kind of test to know if I'd been keeping track of time. I told him the exact date. "It's the fifth of January, two thousand and sixteen, five days since Will disappeared." 

Jamie nodded, unfeigned. "Okay. Okay," he murmured as he continued to write cohesively. Finally, he set down his pen and dragged his blue eyes to mine. "Where do you think he is?" 

"You know, the police asked me this probably thirteen times in the past few days, but you know, let's make this the fourteenth. I don't know at all. It's not the answer you want, is it, because what you people want is the exact location at the exact time, the right spot, the right moment and the easy way out. I don't have the information because I quite frankly need a recheck myself on why I woke up on a road when I should be dead. I wouldn't mind if a car ran over me, actually, because-" 

Jamie allowed me to ramble on for the next five minutes. It surprised me, again, how we actually looked interested in what I was saying. He did write down some more notes, though, and my brain didn't try to untangle the mystery of what he wrote down about me. All I cared about was letting it all spill out and not care about who was listening. 

I stopped at one point to take a proper breath. I closed my eyes to block out the harsh light of the office. I remembered his question. 

"William's here." 

"He is?" Jamie said, but he seemed far away. 

"Everyone says that he's gone, but he's always around for me. I bet he's in this room right now. I can feel his stupid presence all around me and it makes me want to throw up. He's suffocating me," I said, and tears were on the edge of spilling. "I wish he was gone. He's not like Will, though. He's so..." I struggled to find the right word, my vision blurring with tears. "Evil. So evil.' 

"How do you see him, Sarah?"

"His whole body in the true flesh. He looks like Will. I think he is. I don't always see him to know he's here, though. He speaks to me and knows everything the old Will knew." 

"Like what?"

"Secrets," I said softly. "My habits. My regrets. Stuff even my parents don't know." 

Part of me hated the fact that I was confessing all this for the first time to a stranger. Another part of me felt addicted to just releasing all the intensity that was building up inside me.

I even told him about smoking all the way through last night with Julia because of the stress. I told him that I missed the Sarah that would've refused the smoke. I even told him that it was all William's fault. 

"That's not true, Sarah. I may not know your brother but I know that this wasn't in his hands." 

I looked away and told him words that I never thought I would say out loud. "I think it was in mine." 

*  *  *

A/N: Here's the tenth chapter! I'm really sorry for the slow updates - I have to be inspired to write a new chapter, even if it's in the middle of the night. As usual, please point out grammar mistakes ;)

-max