The next morning Toby woke in his bed. He felt different. He wasn’t tired at all, and when he consciously woke up, it felt like he had been lying there awake for hours. He had no thoughts flowing through his mind. He sat up slowly and stumbled over to the wall, but when he stood he automatically felt dizzy. He stumbled to the doorway and walked down the stairs. His parents were sitting at the table, his father was tuned in to the small TV that sat on the counter top, and his mother was reading the newspaper. She quickly looked over when she felt Toby’s presence looming behind her.

“Well good morning sleepy head, you’ve been sleeping forever,” she greeted him with a hesitant smile. Toby slowly looked over at the clock and noticed that it was 12:30 p.m.

“I made you breakfast but it got cold, I was going to wake you but I felt you needed sleep,” her expression fell from happy to worried as her son resisted responding to her.

“Are you all right?”

Toby stumbled over and sat by his father. He felt as if he was on idle and had no control over his actions. He was seeing everything he did, but I didn’t register in his brain properly. He reached out to his father’s arm, but his hand ended up getting slapped. His father turned to him abruptly and pushed his chair over whit his foot.

“Don’t touch me, boy!” he yelled.

His mother stood up, “Alright know that off! That is the last thing we need!”

The days went by, and things continued on as they were. Connie spent most of her time cleaning the house, and her rude husband spent most of his time ordering her around. It was just like how it used to be before the crash.

Toby never really left his room. He would sit by his bed and tremble. His mind would wonder, but his thoughts changed too fast to be remembered. He would pace around his small room like a caged animal or stare out the window. The unhealthy cycle continued.

Connie continued to be pushed around by her husband, being way too submissive to him, and Toby remained in his room.

Before he could think twice, he would begin to chew on his hands, tearing the flesh from his fingers. He would gnaw his hands until they bled. When his mother walked in on him while he was doing so, she reacted horribly. She rushed him downstairs and grabbed the first aid kit, wrapping his hands in bandages. Afterward, she demanded that he wouldn’t leave her side again.

Toby isolated himself so much that he grew to hate being around others. His memory grew glitchy as well. He’d start missing memory of minutes, hours, days, and so on. He would begin talking nonsense about things completely unrelated to the conversations he would have. He’d go off about seeing things, sharks in the sink as he washed the dishes; hearing crickets in his pillows, and seeing ghosts outside his bedroom window. His mother grew so anxious about his mental health that she decided it would be good for him to talk to a professional about what he was feeling.

Connie walked Toby into the building, holding his hand and guiding him in. She walked him up to the front desk and began talking to the lady who sat behind it.

“Mrs. Rogers?” The lady asked.

“Yes that’s me,” Connie nodded, “We’re here to see Doctor Oliver, I’m here with Toby Rogers.”

“Yes, right this way,” the lady stood and led them down a long hallway. Toby looked at the framed artwork down the halls and tuned in to the sound of the lady’s high heels on the hardwood floor.

She opened the door to a room with a table and two chairs.

“If we can get him to sit in here for a few minutes, I’ll get the doctor,” she smiled and held the door open.

Toby stumbled into the room and sat down at the table. He looked over at his mother and the lady before the door slowly shut behind them. He looked around the room before he held up his tightly bandaged hands and began to bite at the bandages to unwrap his hands, but he was interrupted as the door swung open and a young woman in a black and spotted dress with light blond hair stepped in, holding a clipboard and a pen.

“Toby?” she asked with a smile.

Toby looked up at her and nodded.

“Nice to meet you Toby, my name is Doctor Oliver.” She put her hand out for him to shake by hesitantly pulled away when she noticed his bandaged hands.

“Oh,” she smiled nervously before clearing her throat and sitting in the chair across the table form him.

“So I’m going to ask you a few questions, try to answer them as honestly as possible, okay?” she placed her clipboard down on the table. Toby nodded slowly and held his restrained hands in his lap.


“How old are you, Toby?”

“Seventeen,” he responded quietly.

She wrote that down on the paper that was clipped to the clipboard.

“What is your full name?”

“Toby Aaron Rogers.”

When is your birthday?”

“April 28th.”

“Who is your immediate family?”

Toby paused for a minute before answering her question, “My mom, my dad, and…” he stopped, “M-my sister.”

“I heard about your sister dear…I’m really sorry,” her expression faded into a sad pity-filled look.

Toby nodded.

“Do you remember anything from the crash Toby?”

Toby looked away from her. His mind went blank for a moment. He looked down at his lap, and in the surrounding area, he heard a faint ringing sound. His eyes widened and he froze in place.

“Toby?” the counselor asked.

“Toby are you listening?”

Toby felt a shiver go down his spine until he froze once again and slowly looked over out the little window through the door, where he saw it. A dark featureless figure, peering in at him. He stared, eyes widened, the ringing growing louder and louder until suddenly the loud voice of the counselor broke his trance.

“Toby!” she yelled.

Toby jumped and fell sideways out of his chair and backed up into the corner.

Doctor Oliver stood up, holding her clipboard to her chest. A surprised look in her eyes.

Toby met her eyes again, his breath hitching as he twitched.