• Edgar made it home at around four. “Mom?” his echo answered him. He was alone. Completely alone. Edgar shook off his loneliness and went upstairs to his room. He dropped his keys on the computer desk, turned on the radio and dropped his bag in his chair in one swift movement. Edgar flopped down on the bed, burying his face in the pillows.
    What a day! He thought. He might as well get some sleep while the sun was out, before the screams of the deceased crept into his dreams. He lay there with his eyes closed, thinking. How much he loved Melody, how he longed to see his sister one more time and how he wondered what was to become of him. How could he make it through this alone?
    Hot tears hit the back of his eyes but he dare not open them; burning, tears that gave him a headache to hold them back. He rolled over on his back. His heart ached; it felt like he, himself, was dying. He was struggling within himself. He wanted to scream. He punched his pillow. He couldn’t sleep. Edgar yelled in frustration and his anxiety and internal agony.
    He stumbled to his door, looking for things to occupy his mind. He was too stressed to be on the computer, too antsy to read, and he couldn’t think of a soul he could call that would comfort him. Melody wasn’t answering his text. Maybe she was busy. Who knew? Edgar was getting paranoid. Malike was in the house with him somewhere.
    Somehow, Edgar knew he was going to find him. If Edgar stayed in his room, he would be in the doorway. If he closed the door, he would be in the closet. If he blocked off his closet, he would be under his bed. There was no escaping him. Edgar had to convince himself there was nothing to fear. Malike was dead and he wasn’t coming back. Period.
    But, there was no explaining that to Edgar’s subconscious. No matter what he did, Malike’s ghost seemed to haunt him every waking moment, keeping him on a constant edge. Edgar peered outside his door. There was nothing waiting for him in the hallway. Suddenly, the loud screeching of Edgar’s cell phone sent him into panic mode.
    His heart caught in his throat and his headache worsened. He stumbled backwards. It vibrated loudly on his desk, playing a song that now seemed strangely fast and unfamiliar. The phone read ‘DAD’ in bold flashing letters. Edgar flipped it open. “Hello?” there was a pause. “Hey Ed. How you, umm, how you been?”