A Phantom of a Truth

Chapter Seventeen

Wes hung his head, his right eye was almost swollen shut and he was cold. Or hot, he couldn't decide and he couldn't tell.

"I gotta admit it kid, I'm impressed with how close you were from hiding from our radar."

Wes was to busy trying to breathe to give a damn about what the man in white was going on about. The air wasn't going in right. And it was leaving his lungs too easily.

"Thankfully for us though, that small trace of ectoplasm was all that we needed in you."

Wes's eyes flickered. His head felt so heavy, but he slowly force himself to meet the man's gaze. Wes narrowed his eyes in confusion.

The man was so hard to see in the blurs and the smears. Wes faintly wondered if he'll see anything right after this.

"If you can hide so well, then you must know where Phantom is, right? Because he hides well just like you."

Wes tried to straighten his back, doing this slowly as his breathing became fiercely irregular and it came out in sharp wheezes that pierced his insides.

The man in white glanced at his fists, "Red is so easy to fake. Not many ghosts know this, do you think Phantom does?"

Another white blur came in Wes's vison. 'ah, there's two.' For some reason, Wes kept forgetting this.

"Listen kid, um," The other man rubbed his nose, or at least, that's what Wes's guess was. Either ways he sounded numb and cold. Much like this room. "You're not a reported ghost. Or threat. That being said, you're not really in our books,"

Wes couldn't hold it anymore, he collapsed back into a slouch in the chair that still hadn't warmed up in the time Wes was in it. Then again, Wes didn't really have a concept of time at this point.

"And because you're not in out books, by the paperwork that'll mean that you were never here." The man leaned closer, "And you know how closely mortals like us tie truth with the written record, right?"

Wes tried shutting him out. At this point he couldn't stand listening to more threats or idle promises.

Wes felt a sharp pain as something blunt hit him on the side of his face, he hissed and felt something in him wither from the contact.

The man, or one of them, pulled away and loosened his fist. "I like it when things like you listen, alright kid?"

Wes felt a hand force his head up, thick fingers gripping onto his face tight.

"As I was saying, no one knows about you. That being said, it'll be very, very easy to convince the rest of our branch that we never interrogated you." The agent shrugged "Or even that we ever let go a little ghost like yourself."

"And all you have to do," the other white blur leaned closer, "Is tell us where Phantom is,"

The hand clinged tighter and Wes could feel fingernails digging into his skin and starting to break the surface. "Hell, you don't even have to tell us where he is, just how he does it. How he hides and drops off our radars like nothing." He released and Wes gasped as the weight of his head was too much and collapse down without the support,

"And you can slither back to whatever pit you came from. We just might even turn a blind eye the next time we catch you sleeping in some child's bed."

For the first time in Wes's life, he didn't dare think. Thinking could lead to words and words could lead to answers that Wes didn't want to tell. Wes felt his eyes burn and something wet curve down his cheeks as he shook his head. He tried to move his lips to speak, or better yet, to lie.