The Inheritance

Chapter Thirteen - Fraying Connections

The next few days blurred together in a haze of sleepless nights and terrifying visions. Mike's attempts to distance himself from everyone became more extreme, and the people in his life noticed. His mother left several voicemails, each one sounding more worried than the last, but he couldn't bring himself to call her back. The thought of talking to her, of hearing the fear in her voice, was too much.

At the pub, his behavior grew erratic. He snapped at customers, forgot orders, and more than once found himself standing in the kitchen, staring into space, unable to recall why he had walked in there. His staff gave him a wide berth, whispering behind his back. He could feel their eyes on him, the judgment, the concern. It all felt distant, as though he was watching his life fall apart from outside himself.

Paul and Sara, his friends from outside the pub, had also reached out, but Mike ignored their calls. He didn't know how to explain what was happening to them, and part of him feared that they wouldn't understand—would think he was losing his mind. Maybe he was.

But one afternoon, Sara appeared at the pub unexpectedly. She caught Mike just as he was leaving, her face a mix of concern and frustration.

"Mike, what the hell is going on with you?" she demanded, blocking his path.

Mike sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Sara, not now, okay? I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

"I'm not here to lecture you," she snapped. "I'm here because you're scaring the crap out of me. You've been ghosting everyone, and the people at the pub say you're not yourself. What's going on? You can talk to me."

Mike clenched his fists, the familiar tightness in his chest returning. He couldn't keep pushing everyone away, but how could he possibly explain it? Sara wouldn't believe him, no matter how much she cared. No one did.

"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, stepping around her.

Sara grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Try me. You're my friend, Mike, and whatever's going on, I'm not going to let you just self-destruct without at least trying to help."

Mike looked at her, the weight of the past few weeks pressing down on him. He was so tired—tired of the secrets, tired of the fear. He wanted to tell her everything, to let someone else carry the burden for just a moment. But as he opened his mouth to speak, the shadows flickered in the corners of his vision.

They were watching.

"I can't," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't bring you into this, Sara. It's too dangerous."

Sara's brow furrowed, but before she could say anything, Mike pulled his arm free and walked away, leaving her standing there, her confusion and worry palpable in the air.