Confident

It

Song: Brain Damage by Pink Floyd

October 19, 1993

The mornings creeps in, casting a light through the crack in Stanley's curtains. He wakes in a warm embrace, which surprises him because his hallucinations never last this long. Stanley wonders if his parents are back yet. He'd love to call his mother in for a breakfast in bed. It's been a long night and she's the only one who really understands.

Eventually he lets his eyes drift open. There Bill lays, as beautiful and elegant as ever. His eyes stay shut, which Stanley is grateful for. He's not sure how much longer he'll last. He really needs his mom.

Stanley shakes the boy from his arms, even though he knows he's not there. It still looks and feels incredibly real. Little does he know it is real.

Stan's toes graze the carpet below and he thanks whatever's out there for not waking his craziness. It's not that he hates Bill, because really it's the opposite of that. It's just the fact that this Bill isn't his Bill. It's a figment of his imagination. If it were really Bill, his cheeks would be flushed at the thought of their skin touching all night. He'd be embarrassed and on edge for the rest of his life. How could he move on from such a thing.

Just then Stanley's mother walks in. She smiles, careful not to frighten him. "You're awake?"

Stanley sighs. "Unfortunately." His arms stretch.

"How was last night?" It's a question she hates to ask, but must.

"It was-..." Stanley's eyes peek at his arms, which are very much covered in scratch marks and scabs.

"It got you?"

Stan is still amazed by how natural she talks of the whole situation. "You could say that."

"How bad?"

He wants to lie, but he knows she'll see right through him. She always does. His lip quivers and he tries to hide that too. "It was bad."

She nods for him to continue. He's not sure if he should, but her encouraging stare helps him. "It's selfish of me to say, but I just wanted you there. More than anything. And I know you won't always be there and I won't always be here. I just missed you. His voice was constant. He was so close. He kept thumping at my head. It lasted all night."

Her eyes gloss over, but she hides it well. At least she thinks she does. Stanley can tell she's hurting. He's ashamed by it, but she always waves him off. While others would call him crazy, she comforts him.

"I shouldn't have gone out."

"Don't say that, mom. It's not your fault."

She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Okay."

They're both silent now. That is until her eyes catch sight of the boy resting behind her son. "I'm glad to see you at least had a little company."

Stanley's eyebrows furrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"You know?" Her head nods forward.

Stan's eyes drift to where she looks. Then they widen in realization. Bill is there. Bill is on his bed. Bill knows. Bill is real. Bill is going to have no idea what to do. Stanley's dizzy now. He's going to hate me, or call me crazy, he'll tell everyone. What should I say? Should I laugh it off? Tell him it was a dream? I ate bad bread? That's what happened in the Salem witch trials, right? Oh no. Hey Bill, you beautiful boy who slept in my bed, next to me, without me knowing to fully take it in, there's a reasonable explanation. I was pranking you. Obviously. Ha.