(Joshua’s POV)
The fog is suffocating, not just around us but inside me. It feels like it’s seeping into my skin, dragging up every shitty thing I’ve been trying to forget. And right now, that’s a lot.
We’ve been walking for what feels like hours, the group sticking close together because none of us are stupid enough to wander off alone again. But even with Dillon nearby, even with the others within reach, I feel alone. Alone with my thoughts, which are growing darker with every step we take deeper into this nightmare.
The fog isn’t just around me—it’s inside my head. I see it now, like flickers of a memory I’ve tried to bury but can’t. I glance to my left, and there he is. Marcus, my older brother, standing there in handcuffs. His eyes empty, cold, like they always were after another one of his arrests. But the weird part? He’s not supposed to be here. He’s not real. Not right now.
The vision flickers, like static on a TV screen, and then it’s gone. But the weight of it lingers, pressing down on me harder than the mist. I’m losing my grip. I can feel it slipping. The fog is fucking with me, and it’s not just trying to scare me—it’s trying to make me drown in this bullshit. I know that.
Another flicker. This time, it’s my mom. Sitting at the kitchen table, completely ignoring me while she fawns over Marcus like he’s the goddamn golden child. Her back is to me, and she’s talking to him in that sickly sweet voice she always used, like he was the only person in the world who mattered.
I clench my fists, hard enough that I feel my nails dig into my palms. But the pain doesn’t stop the memories from pushing their way through.
I want to shut it out. I need to shut it out. But it’s impossible.
We stop to rest, and I sit down on a rock, trying to catch my breath, but it feels like I’m suffocating on the memories swirling inside my head. I keep seeing them, these visions, and they’re getting worse—clearer. Like the fog is feeding off my misery, sucking out every shitty moment I’ve tried to leave behind. My brother’s constant run-ins with the law, my mom’s obsession with him, my sister’s drunken screaming matches with her fourth baby daddy. It’s like the fog is pulling all of that to the surface, forcing me to relive every moment that made me hate being home.
Fuck.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and close my eyes. It doesn’t help. The images are still there, flashing behind my eyelids, taunting me. I can hear my sister now, her slurred voice screeching at me for not “helping out” more when her latest kid wouldn’t stop crying. I wasn’t even there when it happened, but it feels so fucking real right now, like I’m back in that apartment, trying to keep my head down while my family imploded around me.
I open my eyes, and there she is—Emily—one of our classmates. Her face is blurred, distorted in the mist. She’s still missing, still out there somewhere, but my mind can’t even hold onto that reality. I see her, but I also see my sister, drunk and furious, and for a second, the two blur together in my head.
I shake it off, but the unease stays.
The others are talking, but I tune them out. I don’t have the energy to care about what they’re saying. I’m too busy fighting my own demons to worry about the shadows in the fog.
That’s when I feel it. A presence.
I glance up, and there’s Dillon, standing in front of me, his face hard to read in the dim light filtering through the mist. He’s been watching me more lately, and I don’t know why. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crack, to fall apart, and part of me wants to. But I’m not going to give him—or anyone—the satisfaction of seeing me weak.
But Dillon? He’s not like the others. He doesn’t just look at me like I’m some fuck-up. There’s something else in his eyes, something I can’t put my finger on. It pisses me off and calms me at the same time, and that’s a dangerous combination.
“You alright?” he asks, his voice low, like he’s trying not to spook me.
I scoff, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my tone. “Do I look alright?”
He doesn’t flinch. “No. But you don’t have to deal with this shit alone, you know.”
His words hit me in a way I don’t expect. I’m so used to pushing everyone away that I don’t even think about it anymore. It’s just second nature. But something in the way he says it—calm, steady—makes me pause.
I lean back against the rock, staring up at the swirling fog overhead. I could brush him off, give him some bullshit answer and move on. But the weight of everything—my family, this fucked-up situation, the constant sense of being watched—it’s too much. And for the first time in a long time, I just… I can’t keep it all inside.
So, I start talking. I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s because he’s standing there, not looking at me like I’m broken, but like I’m worth listening to. Maybe it’s because I’m too exhausted to keep fighting the memories off. Or maybe it’s because, deep down, I want someone to fucking understand.
“My brother,” I begin, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s always been the favorite. Even when he was screwing up, getting arrested… it didn’t matter. He was still the one that mattered to her. Not me.”
Dillon doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. He’s listening. Really listening. And for the first time, it feels like someone gives a shit.
“I tried to be good,” I continue, the words tumbling out now, faster than I can stop them. “I kept my head down, did what I was supposed to do. But no matter what, I was always… invisible. Like I didn’t exist. My mom doted on him, made excuses for him, even when he was in jail. And my sister? She’s just a fucking mess. Always drunk, always in some kind of drama with her baby daddies.”
I shake my head, my hands gripping the edges of the rock beneath me. “I just wanted to get out, you know? Get the hell away from them. That’s why I’m here. Why I got into the frat, got the scholarship. But no matter how far I run, it’s like I can’t escape it.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I glance up at Dillon, half-expecting him to look at me with pity, or worse, judgment. But he doesn’t. He’s just… there. Listening. No bullshit, no trying to fix it, just letting me talk.
And that? That’s more than anyone’s done for me in a long time.
“I get it,” he says after a long pause. “Not your exact situation, but… feeling invisible? Yeah, I get that.”
His words hit harder than I expected. Dillon’s always seemed like the guy who had it all—rich parents, a perfect life, the whole deal. But maybe there’s more to him than I thought. Maybe he’s been carrying his own shit, too.
For a second, I don’t know what to say. I’m not used to this—this feeling of being understood, of having someone actually see me for who I am, not for the image I’ve built around myself to keep people out.
Dillon leans against a nearby tree, his eyes still on me. “You’re not invisible, Joshua,” he says, his voice steady. “Not here.”
Something tightens in my chest, and I have to look away, because the weight of those words is too much. Not invisible. Not here.
Fuck. I don’t know how to deal with that.
We sit there in silence for a while longer, the fog swirling around us like a cocoon, but the presence of the shadows feels distant now. The visions, the whispers—they’re still there, but they don’t feel as suffocating. Maybe it’s because, for once, I’m not facing them alone.
Eventually, the others start moving again, the quiet chatter of the group pulling us back into the present. But something between Dillon and me has shifted. It’s subtle, but it’s there, like an unspoken understanding that wasn’t there before.
As we get up to join the others, I steal a glance at him. He meets my gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that makes my stomach twist—not in fear, but in a way that’s even more unsettling.
We fall in line with the group, but the weight of everything that’s been said—and everything that hasn’t—lingers between us, thick and heavy like the fog around us.
For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel completely alone.
And that scares the shit out of me.
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