It’s 3 months shy of 5 years since my brother disappeared. I don’t know why, but my whole family insists on still searching for him. I keep telling them he’s dead, but they won’t listen. They either don’t believe me, or they’re just in an extreme state of denial. Either way, his bloody, shredded t-shirt and severed, decayed hand they found in an open field near our house, 4 months after he went missing, should’ve been hard enough evidence. But since there’s been no ‘body’ found, and his phone keeps pinging all over the state, they’re convinced it’s some long, elaborate prank, or a very poorly thought out ransom. My sister thinks he tried to fake his death and was too stupid to change his number and identity. She calls and texts his phone all the time. Leaves him voicemails. Even gets a text back here and there, saying “be patient”. My family won’t involve the police anymore. They think my parents are crazy. I agree somewhat, since they’ve hired a Private Investigator, and just give everything to him. But I know the truth. He is dead. He has been this whole time.
He won’t talk to me though, he won’t tell me what happened or where he’s buried. Or even if he’s just hidden somewhere. He just… stands at the end of my bed, facing out of my window until 6 in the morning. When the sun comes up over the tree line, he pulls himself through the small opening, limps to the edge of the woods, looks up and smiles at me, then slowly fades into the trees. But… Last night he wasn’t there. I waited. And waited. Until I fell asleep sometime after 1am. When I woke up at 6, like I do every morning since he started this ‘routine’, he still wasn’t there. This went on for about 3 weeks. I’ve never spoken to him, nor him to me. There’s just always been a mutual comfort, and understanding that he’s only there to watch over me. Why specifically me? I’m not sure. But something tells me that him not showing up for almost a month isn’t a good sign…
I can’t talk to anyone about it. Who the hell would believe me? So here I am, lying awake at 4:37am, still no sign of Damien. He’s been gone since May 2017, and started showing up in my room sometime around the 1 year anniversary of his death. The first time was… pretty terrifying, I’m not going to lie. My parents burst into my room when they heard me scream. He just stood there, staring at me, while they asked what was wrong. I kept screaming, crying, pointing. They couldn’t see him… They stayed with me, until after he left. Once I calmed down, I tried to explain to them what I saw. The assholes laughed at me, saying the stress of his anniversary was making me ‘see things’.
But I wasn’t just SEEING Damien. I could smell his cologne that I bought him for Christmas. I TOUCHED his hand, my dead brother’s hand… He just looked at me, the first time I grabbed it. He seemed shocked at first, as did I. But then he squeezed my hand back, and we both cried. When I tried to hug him though, he recoiled, and left early for the first time ever… I don’t know the stipulations to the visits. I don’t know why they started, I didn’t know how long they would last. But now it’s like I’ve lost him all over again since he’s stopped showing up… I’m not sure if he CAN’T talk, WON’T, talk, or just doesn’t know what to say. But I’ve had a horrible feeling since he’s been gone, and I think something bad is going to happen if he doesn’t come back…
(Part two is pending due to limited posting)