Miles sat on his bed with his knees to his chest with glossy eyes holding back the teary storm welling inside.

  He couldn't cry, he promised himself to stop as a child. His world showed him it was weak and boys his age were meant to be strong. His father always bore the weight of all his troubles so he had to learn too, he had to fight the pain constricting around his throat even if it only got harder to breathe.

  As the time passed Miles was able to soak up his emotions like a sponge, hoping he would maintain control over how much he expressed them. it was a dark and still night with no light in sight, he always found it comforting. But this time, his heart skipped when the hairs on his skin stood erect. By instinct his eyes went to his mirror again as something or someone began to scribble on it.

  He read the words aloud as he followed each stroke till it came to a halt.

  “You stole from me” His throat became dry while he envisioned the mansion.

  “Who are you?” He murmured.

  “You will know no peace,” a soft feminine voice ecohed in whispers.

  Theground shook under his feet as the wind whirled with ice, Miles fled under his bed, hugging his knees to his chest as he lay on the cold wooden floor, unable to make sense of the things he felt and saw. His mother always said things like this were not real, the voices were all in his head and he had to shut them up.

  "You are not real" he chanted on,

  "Oh, I am real" the voice replied with an icy chuckle.

  "Just leave me alone." He murmured and attempted to slow his breathing. Closing his eyes, he slipped his palms over his ears, blocking off the loud, persistent whispers.

  But it fell quiet when someone approached the room, his eyes stayed closed while he listened to each footstep rhytmn with the thump of his heart beat, until they came to a stop.

  “Miles?” He heard his father's voice call.

  "Yes, sir," he quickly responded as he slid out from beneath the bed.

  "Son, what were you doing under there?"

  "I was on the lookout for something I lost"

  "Alright, meet me outside, we've got a hole on the fence." He murmured and walked away with Miles loosely trailing behind him.

  His father came to a halt and crouched alongside the tools and wood logs he had set beside the fence. He stretched a little, his back aching from all the digging he'd done all day. As many father's would, he buried all his pain behind a straight face, taking on his responsibilities without protest even if his body suffered the weight.

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  "I need you to hand me those nails whenever I ask. Alright?”

  "Yes, pa." Miles replied and he knelt beside him.

  Miles stared at him while he hammered the nails into the fence, unsure if he should ask the questions troubling his mind.

  “pa?”

  "Yes, son."

  "What was my illness like as a child," he asked and watched him pause.

  "You were calmer than most kids, staring into space, talking to yourself. "You told us about things we've never told anyone, just like the first time I met your mother, my rough childhood, those kinda things"

  "Then why was mama so afraid of it?"

  "I don't know son, all I know is your mama is trying her best to protect you, you don't know how much trouble you caused as a young kid,"

  "What did I do?"

  "You called out some pastors we took you to as fake, you once even made a white racist cop cry, it was crazy. But it got you unwanted attention from some very bad people. Enough about all that, we are just happy you are all fixed up and normal now" his father said with a smile while Miles felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

  "Do you think mama hates me because of what happened to Anthony?" Miles whispered and watched his father pause to look at him with slightly widened eyes.

  "You were just trying to look out for your big brother. Some things are always going to be out of your control Miles, all I know is we'll figure it out." He replied with a slight smile and went back to working on the fence.

  The sky grew darker as time went on, revealing the stars as the sun went down the horizon. Miles had packed the tools into the house after his father mended the fence, they were now at the dinning, eating quietly. He stared at his food to avoid his mother's concerned gaze while his father watched every expression they both hid in silence.

  “How did you find school today?”

  “it was fine, father.” Miles replied

  “How was your day at the Miller’s, Honey?”

  “It was alright.” she nearly whispered.

  Her husband sighed and told himself he would have to speak with her before retiring for the night, he feared her concern for his illness might break his family, if she handled it in the wrong way.

  “Good night, father, good night, mother.” Miles muttered as he walked away with his empty plate. After cleaning the dishes as usual, he headed to his room. He stood at the door and said a quick prayer, hoping for best, he went in.

  Miles stared at his room under the moons eluding light, he could feel the wind softly blowing through his open curtains while the soft sounds of crickets echoed from the yard. He dropped on his bed, taking note of how large and hallow his room always seemed at night.

  The more he stared into the darkness, the more his eyes made out horrid faces with reddened glowing eyes, growing bigger as they hovered closer.But he quickly sprung up and turned on the lights, holding his hand to his chest as it felt peaceful again.

  Miles lay back down and wrapped his blanket around his body, ready to close his eyes to sleep. It was however cut short when he heard footsteps stump their way around his room as voices snickered with laughter. His eyes widened while he unfolded his blanket and glanced about for the source, but once again, he was all alone.

  Meanwhile, Miles parents lay on their bed with their backs to each other, pondering in silence while they remembered all that had happened. John sat up and gently tapped his wife on the shoulder, he watched her move to sit next to him while she stretched out her arms and pretended to be drowsy.

  "We need to talk." He whispered as soon as he caught her gaze.

  "What do we need to talk about?"

  "I think you are being to hard on our son, I know you are trying to protect him but he needs you to help him understand why you are doing this"

  ”What do you mean by make him understand? You more than anyone else, remember how some government health care officials tried to take him away after they called him mentally unstable. Do you want that to happen again?”

  “I know that you are doing your best as his mother, but that is not what I mean. he doesn't even know that happened”

  “I’ve been trying my best. He has to understand that we are doing all of this for his future. You should try to help me and not complain”

  “you know what, maybe his illness was a gift, if we had listened to him when he warned us not to let Anthony out of the house that day, maybe he would still be here” He muttered but regretted his remarks when he saw how tearful her eyes were.

  “Don’t you even think about bringing Anthony into this, how would we have locked him up in the house when he was supposed to write his scholarship exam that day. I did my best as a mother, you can't put his death on me” She yelled and retained her previous position with tears streaming from her eyes.

  Her husband sighed and retreated to his bed, deciding it was best not to say anything else to upset her