It took a step towards me and I leaned backwards clinging to the sheets surrounding me. Whatever it was it couldn't be real, even if it looked like a younger me it wasn't real. The thing in front of me took another step closer before stopping and looking down at his toy with recognition. I'd only had that thing for a week before everything went bad, one last gift from him before he went away.

  “Are you Mikayla?” Oh God, it's voice sounded just like I remembered it.

  It took another step toward me before I bolted, I ran for the door to the hallways, an oversized hoodie hung onto it. I nearly tripped on the stairs down from the attic where my old room was from. The stairs creaked just like I remembered they did, the fourth and seventh steps were always the loudest. I should've skipped those steps because as I made my way to the bottom I heard a voice I hadn't heard in years.

  “Michael!” From another room I could hear my father shouting my name in anger.

  I could've run, I could have escaped, but in mere moments he appeared from the corridor and stared at me with those horrible eyes. My body froze at the sight of him as he approached me. Just as he was about to reach me I regained control of myself and ran into the bathroom before locking it. The scent of alcohol made its way to my nose just before I was able to escape.

  “Open this fucking door or I'll break it down!” He wouldn't, no matter how many times he said that the hassle of fixing it always deterred him.

  I huddled into the corner by the bathtub and across from the toilet. My breathing was weird, it was too fast, too loud, it felt like I wasn't breathing at all. Every time he sounded at the door I felt my chest tighten up and my legs creep closer. I couldn't make out the shouting, my ears were ringing and all I heard was static. I hugged myself trying to keep the non-existent cold away from me, the sweat perspiring down from my forehead only worsened the feeling.

  Even though my father was shouting at me I knew he loved me. He only ever got angry because of me, because of what I did, and right now that was because I ran away from him. If I didn't run away then he wouldn't be yelling again, it was always my fault. I contemplated leaving the bathroom but I knew that would only make the situation worse. Despite me hesitating to do anything my father suddenly stopped talking, then the shouting started again before I heard him stomp away. Hesitantly I got up and slowly opened the door to see it standing there looking at me with an almost imperceptibly small grin on its face.

  “I'm sorry my dad yelled at you.” For a brief second I almost thought it was genuine before I came back to my senses, it was nothing but a nightmare to haunt me.

  I burst open the door and ran away from it, it didn't seem to follow me as I made my way down the stairs and to the main floor. It didn't seem to follow me and I turned around to see that it was nowhere to be seen, it'd probably just gone back to the room. As I descended the staircase I stopped in my tracks as my eyes caught a feminine middle aged figure absently mindedly watching old romantic sitcom reruns.

  My body acted before my mind and I rushed over to my mom before embracing her tightly within my arms. Mom seemed shocked at first before she growled in frustration and anger, I should've known better than to disturb her. In less than a moment she'd pushed me back and slapped me across the face. Instincts told me to run back to my room and hide away, but I endured just so I could see her again.

  “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you to not touch me! Go to your room now!” It didn't take any more yelling for me to scamper away from her, she didn't want me around and I understood.

  Carefully I ascended the staircase to the attic making sure I didn't run into my father or that thing. Somehow I was able to get into my room without either of them finding me. I huddled into my twin sized bed now as big as I remembered it from my childhood. The last time I was able to sleep in here was half a decade ago. I pulled the sheets over my head and let myself be engulfed in darkness. Feeling below my pillow a smirk grew across my face as I felt the hand console in my hands.

  Pulling it out it looked just like I remembered it did, cheap neon yellow plastic with a d-pad that got stuck half the time and crusty A and B buttons. It was a bootleg my mom had bought for me when I was seven along with a bootleg copy of Quatra, the only game I owned. I watched as the weird shapes made out of four blocks fell. As I played I realized how much I missed this. Whatever nightmare I was in at least it was a recognizable one unlike any of the ones I'd been having ever since the cave.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  For some reason as I played my eyes began to moisten, as if playing a video game was anything to cry at. The more I tried to wipe away tears the more that fell until eventually they dropped onto the console in my hands. My hands were shaking and I couldn't help but let go. I curled up into a fetal position and held my legs close to me. Why was I crying? Just because I was back here didn't mean that I should get all emotional about it. I was just here over a month ago before Ennath, it wasn't like seeing my parents would do anything.

  Suddenly I heard a creaking outside the door, somebody was here. I pinned myself to the wall under my blankets, as if the cloth could protect me from whoever was on the other side. As the door creaked open I tried to stay still and calm myself but I knew nothing would be able to stop the panic in me from rising. The footsteps were small and quiet, not like either of my parents. I knew it could hear me, see me, the blankets were just blankets and the game was still on. It walked closer and closer to me before I could feel movement on the blankets as a small child's hand peeked through with a jello cup that had oranges inside of it and a small metal fork.

  “Do you want one? It's my favorite.” Of course I knew it was it’s, favorite it's my favorite too. But why was it giving me one?

  The thing that wasn't me just stood there waiting for me to answer so I quickly snatched the cup away from it and slowly receded from the blankets. I saw it staring back at me, those same dull blue eyes that I remembered, there were a few bruises on its cheeks and forearms that made me shiver. It stared at me with curiosity, I would too if my favorite toy suddenly came to life before me.

  “Are you Mikayla?” He looked down at the toy in his hands that I resembled far too much.

  “No…” My voice was non-committal, this body wasn't mine, it wasn't real.

  “Well my name's Michael.” He sounded a little excited and extended his hand out for a handshake just like he'd been taught to do by his father.

  I was hesitant to shake his hand, to actually interact with this imposter, but it hadn't actually tried to hurt me yet so I took its hand. As I shook his hand he suddenly pulled me into a hug and wiped away my tears using the sleeves on his shirt. He stared at the still fresh bruise on my face with horror and fear, I knew how he felt all too well.

  “Did my mom hurt you?” His voice still sounded innocent although I knew how horrible of a person he was, or will be since dad's still here.

  “No she… it was my fault.” It was always my fault for everything, mom deserved to be angry at me all the time. He just gave me a solemn nod before glaring at the untouched jello cup and still running game.

  “Are you going to eat it?” He sounded like he really wanted to eat it.

  “I'm not- you're not supposed to bring food to your room.” The last time I got caught with food in my room my mom made sure I'd never do it again.

  “You looked sad earlier and eating jello cups makes me happy.” He gave me a hollow smile that I tried my best to reciprocate.

  “Alright then.” I tore off the plastic lid and dug the spoon into the cup and brought the spoon to my mouth.

  The flavor… the tiny bits of juice on top of the jello and the way the mandarin orange inside the jello. God its been over a month since I last tasted this, if only this dream could last forever. Once again tears began to flow from my eyes, ones of nostalgia and wistfulness. It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. I almost dropped the cup with my shaking hands but I steadied myself and finished it before unceremoniously dropping the spoon and cup onto the ground.

  The other me gave me another hug before asking a question I should've known was coming.

  “Do you miss your family?” I stared at him with confusion before I realized what he was asking about.

  Mikayla the dragon princess, a show I watched when I was a kid and one that I got a toy of its main character from a fast food joint. The character that I now looked almost exactly like. It was a cartoon about the dragon princess who has to go on an adventure to find her long lost family. Mom and dad hated it when I watched it because the main character's skin tone was a little darker than ours. I always made sure to watch whenever I knew I was alone.

  “Yes.” There wasn't anything else I could say. I missed my family so much and they're all gone because of me, because of him.

  “I'm sure you'll find them again.” He gave me another hug, I never remembered myself being this touchy but I didn't stop him.

  Just then I began to hear shouting from the first floor, it wasn't aimed towards me, my parents were fighting again. The shouting was loud enough that I could hear it but not loud enough that I could make out what they were saying. From the face that the other Michael was making I could tell that he hated hearing them too. He climbed into the bed next to me and grabbed the hand console then started playing right where I left off.

  I almost reached out to touch him but I stopped myself, I wasn't sure if there was anything I could say to make him feel better. If he was really me then he'd hate me interrupting him, but I felt like I needed to do something, he got me that jello cup after all. For a second I hesitated to reach out to him, my hand was half outstretched for his shoulder.

  “I'm not sure I should be saying this but-” Before I could say more I seemingly woke up all of a sudden.

  —

  “Michael!” I heard a man yelling overhead from me, he sounded desperate for some reason.

  Slowly I opened my eyes to see a cloudless bright blue sky above me and a literally red faced woman. Scarlet and Damian were looking over top of me for some reason. The last thing I remembered was the house and before that the library which definitely didn't have a sky as a roof. Beneath my hands I felt the softness of grass as I gripped it between my fingers, a thousand soft needles. My head was lying on the grass as well, I moved it to see the hatch wide open to our right along with my bag that I could see held two books.

  “You're awake!” Scarlet pulled me into a deep embrace as she lifted me up from my lying position.

  As she pulled me up I realized that my eyes were beginning to well up with tears again, my dream was a good one, I got to see my family again. So why was I crying? The tears were starting to fall on Scarlet's shirt but she didn't seem to care, she was also crying for some reason. I tried to lift my arm to return my hug but it was still, not because of some force but because I couldn’t muster the willpower to lift it.

  “Can we go home?” I whispered the words as they naturally came out of my mouth.

  I just wanted to go home.