Chapter 8

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Chapter 8

*Alyssa's POV*

"Dad, I'm curious." I started. "Brandon said he was close to you and Mom, but I haven't even met him until now. He explained what happened a bit, though, so I'm not going to ask about that. But why were you hanging out with a spirit child?"

Dad and Brandon exchanged looks. "Brandon, I need to have this conversation alone."

Rolling his eyes, he got up. "Yeah. I'll see you later, Abby."

Abby? Did he call me Abby when we were little? I was ready for answers.

After he walked out, I turned to Dad expectantly. "So? He seems so familiar, it's on the tip of my tongue, but I can't think of it."

"Uh, well, when Marisa was killed by Nightmares, he told you that right? Okay, so we--me and your mom--told him to stay inside with you and keep you out of harm's way, that was the only way we could keep him inside. He hated me every day after that because I didn't help Marisa, even when I couldn't. So he left and I thought he was gone for good." He was talking quickly, which showed me just how nervous he was.

"Why were you so close to him to begin with?"

"So, um, Marisa and I were together a few years before you were born."

"Yeah, so?" If he was implying something, it was going right over the top of my head.

"Abigail, uh, Brandon's, um, your older brother. By four years. He must've stopped aging at sixteen."

My jaw dropped. "He's what?"

"Don't make me say it again." He whined. My mind reeled.

"How could you keep this from me? What were you trying to accomplish?" I whispered harshly, but his expression made me think he would much rather me scream at him.

"I didn't want to lose you too." He mumbled, looking broken-hearted.

"How could you think you'd lose me?" My tone was hurt.

"Abigail, please. I didn't know what else to do."

I just shook my head and started backing up slowly. "I--just let me think and process."

I bolted from the room, slammed my door closed, and slid to the ground against it. I was so confused; I didn't know how to act. Should I be angry? or should I be grateful and excited?

Brandon was my brother. I had an older brother. Brandon was my brother.

My heart, which I then realized had been kept free of pain or ache, started pounding. He, even when I didn't know him, was making sure I was safe. He stayed close, watching me. As I smiled unconsciously, I knew I had to re-read everything, scrape up every detail I unknowingly slipped in about him.

So that's what I did. After locking the door, I poured over my books the rest of the day and into the night. Occasionally a tear would slip out of my eye as I read something I knew to be true. Abby, he almost always called me Abby, and I'd call him Brandy. The story he read proved to be mostly true. I'd looked for him when I was little. I'd been three when he left. He played with me when I was outside until I was eight. Then I forgot him.

As morning broke, I finished my last book and looked out the window, rubbing my eyes in fatigue and the pain of suddenly looking farther away than a foot from my face. One thought hit my mind just like the book hitting the table. I sprang to my feet and messed with the lock, my mind being too scrambled to function properly.

"Dad!" I shouted, running down the hall to his room. He opened the door confusedly just as I reached and I tumbled into him.

"Whoa, what's up?" He chuckled and rubbed my back.

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