After waking up the next day, I found the house empty aside from myself and all of the things I had brought. It's almost funny to me how everything works out. I had tried so hard to appear normal. I didn't want anyone to know how I felt inside and yet I couldn't seem to keep even that part of myself packed away. Stumbling up the stairs, I found the banister shining as if freshly polished, the wood floors also shining with the smell of polish. The windows upstairs had been propped open and the cool scent of pine casually breezed into the house. I feel so peaceful here. There's no one to yell or fight, no harsh words being thrown around. As I walk along the wall to the room I've claimed as my own, I drag my fingertips across the walls, begging them to tell me a story. After all of these years, there must be something that this house could tell me, the deep blood red walls almost pulling you in and inviting you to stay warm.

I stop by the window, leaning out to feel the breeze, but as I do I notice someone walking down across the bedroom at the other end of the hall. There shouldn't be anyone here. I've walked through the entire house. I take each step carefully, leaning into the doorway as I peer around the corner. No one is in here, but I'm not seeing things. I saw someone. I walk across the room, my hand leveling at the doorknob, the pounding against my ribs causing an ache in my chest. There's no way someone is in this closet. Impossible. As I lean forward, I can almost see through the open wooden slats down the center of the door. There's an outline of a body, almost like the shadow of someone, but with no light a shadow is impossible. I can't bring myself to touch the knob, a knot beginning in my throat as I open my mouth, maybe to breathe or to scream. I'm not sure until the flash of a set of eyes opens on the other side and I jump back, running out of the room and slamming the door behind me. Only now do I realize I've been holding my breath, the sweet fresh air invading my lungs as I gasp. My skin feels clammy and wet as I close my eyes, panting to catch my breath.

"What's all the screamin' about?"

That now familiar voice breaks the silence, leaving me grateful that he's here. I point to the door, "There's someone in there. They were in the closet. No one screamed, though, what are you talking about?"

I see his jaw tense as his face turns grim and he shakes his head, "Nothin'. Don't worry about it."

He brushes me aside, opening the door carelessly and walking through the room as if it were his sole purpose. As he reaches for the closet door, I have no time to even voice my panic before he has swung the door open, looking over at me. "See. Empty. Don't worry. It's nothin', Dante. It's nothin' there."

There's no way that it's empty. All of the windows are shut. I know I saw someone in there. How is that even possible? I push my thoughts aside, smiling forcibly as I nod. "Yeah, it's nothing. I guess I've just been stressed. I thought you had left. I couldn't find you." Why am I even saying it like this? How pathetic I've become. But surely he could stay just in case there is someone lurking around . . .

"I'm not leaving you to do all of this work by yourself. Come outside, let me show you what I been doin'."

As I step across the porch, I see that he has shined and polished all of the wood in and out of the house. The tire swing is now properly hung along a sturdy limb of the big tree it had been lying beneath. The shutters have been repaired, sitting beautiful and level aside all of the front windows, freshly sanded and painted. The yard has a small garden, built around the edges with the pretty hedges we had chosen the day before. Anthony gestures to the back of the house where he has begun to sand and repaint the final shutters to the windows that had been opened, leaving only the house itself to be repainted as he stands beaming with pride.

"When did you have time to do all of this?"

He shrugs, "You were asleep for a long time. I woulda woke you up, but I was worried you needed your sleep 'cause of yesterday. You fell real hard. But don't worry. I made sure you'd be comfortable. I got up early and started inside the house. You started snorin' so I figured I could come out here and do some of the harder stuff. I like it outside anyway."

"Thank you, Anthony." The feeling of swallowing my tongue passes as he doesn't ask anything else about yesterday, leading me around the house to explain what he's already completed. The way he talks about the house is with a sense of pride and affection, as if every moment he has put into helping restore it has given him a lifetime of self satisfaction. I find myself drifting away at the sound of his voice, deep and smooth like the soft purr of a cat. It's so relaxing. 

"Do you think you'd want to do that?" He's looking at me again, with that sparkle of brightness in the darkened gold of his eyes.

"Hm? Um, yeah. I'd love to do that," I wonder what I've just agreed to, and why am I being so agreeable?

"That's great. I'll pick up the concrete from town after we've finished our current list and then I'll build the framework for it. This is going to be great."

I laugh at his enthusiasm as he jogs away and leaves me alone again. The smile fades away as I walk back into the house. I begin unpacking everything, settling the dishes and small items where they belong. There's so little that the unpacking is finished in just over an hour. 

I hear the front door close as I sit in the dining floor, exhausted from the running around. I stand up, walking through the kitchen to find Anthony resting against the inside of the door, his clothes soaked through as he appears overheated. I grab a glass of cool water, bringing it over as I notice him smile, an emotion that I can't quite place quickly wiping from his face as he accepts the glass and walks to the kitchen island, sitting up on a stool with his head resting on the counter. He's worked so hard. I hesitate a moment before I open the fridge, pulling out the lunch meat and the bread, along with the condiments. I'm the best sandwich maker in my family, given that's all I could afford on my budget. I quickly put together a chicken sandwich dressed with pickles, mayonnaise, and cheese before sliding it across the counter on a paper plate. "Here. Eat." I watch as he hesitantly takes the first bite before devouring the sandwich. The look on his face is blissful and contagious as I soon find myself wanting to smile and feel content. I put everything away, deciding to eat later as I walk across to the living room, to stretch out across the couch. As much as I want to let these feelings take over, I have to let this go. I can't let it get carried away again. I won't let it get so out of hand.

There's about an hour left of daylight and Anthony has officially completed all of the electrical work and replaced all of the pipes that were damaged under the sinks. I'm amazed at how much he's been able to do, completing over three quarters of my list in one single day. I almost wonder when he began this day. As I trudge through the entryway after eating my dinner in the kitchen, I notice he has once again fallen asleep next to the fireplace. I carefully lay a blanket over him, feeling a warm and soft feeling surrounding my chest. I hate the way I feel sometimes. Why can't he be a girl? Why can't I just be normal? I make my way up the stairs, noticing the door to that room open again. Wasn't it shut when I came through earlier? I pull the door closed, ignoring the shift in the shadows that I thought I had seen. I walk silently across the hall to my room, opening the door and looking back through the empty balcony and across to the shadow room, shivering as cold air runs along my spine. What is happening here?

As I close the door behind me, I feel better, curling up in my bed after I strip down to my boxers. The oversize comforter swallows me up and I disappear into the soft folds of blanket into a dream. This dream is like any other, a fantasy of simple times and an easy life, but I won't remember it tomorrow morning.

I can hear the birds singing outside my window as I stretch, opening my eyes and looking through the door and across the balcony. I'll have to get used to this view, but it feels like it'll never happen. I could swear that I had closed that door before I went to bed, even more pressing, I could swear that I had closed shadow rooms door before coming to my room. However, the door is wide open and there's no light showing through that room. I squint to see across the open area, hoping to catch a glimpse of the room from here, but to no avail. I roll my eyes at how silly I'm acting until I hear the sound of breathing from behind me. I feel frozen in fear, the cold grip of terror rising through my body as I stare straight ahead, watching a shadow moving across the floor of the balcony, blocking the light from the windows as it curves along the floor as if coming right to my door. An arm flops over my side and pulls me into the body behind me as I feel a face nuzzling into the back of my neck. The shadow falters and disappears as I hear mumbling behind me and I turn to find Anthony cuddled up behind me. I jump, rolling onto the floor as I pull my blanket with me, "What the fuck?! What are you doing in here?!"

The confusion in his face is quickly replaced by laughter as he struggles to tell me that he doesn't know, followed by a very serious face as he stands up, adjusting his shorts and shrugging. "It's kinda lonely in this huge house. The fireplace was out and it was so cold. You were really warm when I came to check on you." I see him glancing along the floor as if reading his answer from the grain in the wood. It's worth the embarrassment to see him blushing like this, though. The shade of red that's scattered across his face is also dotted here and there along his torso, the smooth halves of his toned chest shaped perfectly above his abs, carved into his midsection like a modern Adonis all framed by a strapping set of arms built from what appears to be hard work and laboring in the sun, given the impression of the tan line that sits across his hips. The lighter skin below his tan line is like a light olive color, in contrast with the dark and seasoned tan that covers the rest of his body. I pull my eyes away, glad that he hasn't looked up before I remember what I saw.

"There's someone in this house, Anthony. Or something, I don't know. I saw it coming across the hallway. I saw it across the floor like a shadow. Someone was walking in front of the windows! It came out of that room! It was RIGHT THERE!" I can feel the panic rising again, but I can't stop it. All I can do is point and stutter out the same words over and over. "It was r-right there. It's out there. I s-saw it."

Without even looking, he puts his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up against him in a hug. "No one is in this house. Nothin' is here. I promise you will be okay. I won't let anythin' happen to you. Whatever you see, ignore it. It's not real. It hasn't been here for a long time. As long as I'm around, nothin' is comin' anywhere near you." The sound of his voice is so soothing that for a moment I forget what we are even talking about and I'm close to falling asleep standing up. The weakness I felt in my knees is fading and the hysteria jittering through my body slowly resides, leaving me feeling calm and more relaxed than I've ever been. "Now, I reckon you got some things to take care of before you get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen when you've finished getting up." 

As I watch him leave my room with his shirt in hand, I feel the redness return again with a vengeance, once again covering my entire body in embarrassment as I realize that I have dropped my blanket on the floor during my panic and my body has decided that I will not be unaffected by such a hug from someone who regrettably makes me melt inside. I hate him so much. Or rather, maybe I just hate the way he makes me feel? No. I just hate him. I don't feel anything for him. He's just a stupid boy.