I’m here! I’m in my room! My crappy room. My messy, stuffy, lonely room! Thank God, heaven, and the stars! It was just a dream! Phew, what a weirdly vivid dream that was… I totally thought it was real, too. I must actually be sick…

  “Alex?” my sister’s muffled voice trickles through the door from the hall. Lana! God, am I ever happy to hear that voice! After that awful nightmare, I’m reminded just how much I take my life for granted. I can hardly believe I was so worried about… like, what? Band practice? What some trombone players would think of me? All those things seem unfathomably miniscule to me now. I want to give Lana a hug. A big one. Hell, I could squeeze her till her eyes pop out!

  …But it’s not a good time to see her.

  “Lana… Don’t come in. I’m sick.”

  “I know, Mom told me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry for what? Being sick? Don’t be silly.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be…”

  “It’s not your fault, right?

  “I guess not…

  “You didn’t lick the toilets at school, right?”

  “Nuh- Whu- No!?” I’m caught in a fit of chuckling and coughing over her wild question.

  “So it’s not your fault!” She laughs, “Anyways…”

  “Yeah?”

  I already know what she’ll say next. This is the standard procedure: Since I’m sick, she’s going to stay at Dad’s so she doesn’t catch my cold. Even four years after Lana’s full remission, Mom is still really touchy about her getting sick. I have no doubt that she’s already wearing an N95 mask behind that door for Mom’s sake. “Better safe than sorry” as they say.

  Lana confirms my hunch.

  “So… Me and Dad are going to be staying at his place for a while.”

  “I know Mom is making you. She's such a witch about this stuff!”

  “Cmon Alex, it’s fine! I don’t mind at all.”

  “What? No! It's not fair. I should be the one going over there, if anything.”

  “Alex, it’s you that needs taking care of, not me!” Lana retorts, chuckling, “If you feel that bad about it, then, y’know… get better!”

  “...Well, I’ll try.”

  “Anyways, there’s dinner for you. I’ll leave it out here.”

  “Thanks.” I croak, punctuating our conversation with a loud cough.

  “See you later, Alex.”

  Wait, could we chat for a little longer? is what I want to say to her, but the words don’t leave my lips. I say nothing, sitting there on the floor. I don’t know why. In my head, there’s a restless energy. My desire to embrace my own life feels revitalized. I want to chat with my sister for hours, to text all my friends, to doodle in my sketchbook, even to sing in the shower. Despite all this, I just keep sitting there for a while, doing nothing. It’s like my body isn’t responding to my mind at all. This cold is awful, I can’t remember ever feeling like this before. I chalk it up to brain fog.

  Eventually, I get up and retrieve my dinner from behind the door. It’s a bit cold by now, and despite my newfound appreciation for life, my stomach has other plans. I eat a portion of it before making the regrettable discovery that I can’t keep it down. The uneaten half ends up scraped off my plate to the bottom of my trash can with the …eaten half. I put on my tennis shoes to sneak out back and dispose of the stinking bag without alerting Mom. If she sees this, she’ll have a cow. Obviously, she’s very sensitive about either of her kids being sick, not just Lana. It’s kind of embarrassing, I guess. So it’s better if I don’t have to involve her. As I lift the bag out from my trash can, there’s a knock at my door. Crap!

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Can I come in, honey?”

  “No.” An involuntary response springs from me.

  “Hm? Alex, are you okay, honey?”

  “It’s just a cold. I’m fine.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “No.” I say again, just as automatically as the first time.

  “...Can we talk just like this?”

  I carefully attempt to squeeze the trash back back down into the can without it making a sound. Now, Mom’s muffled voice sounds like it’s right against the door.

  “Lana is going to be staying with Dad for a little while. Did she tell you?”

  I want to answer, but I say nothing. Mom pauses for a moment.

  “...I can tell you’re upset. Would you like to tell me about it?”

  Part of me really does want to talk to her, but I say nothing.

  “You had something important to do at practice, right? I’m sorry.”

  I want to tell her that it’s okay, but I say nothing. My silence seems to bite at her.

  “...I know it must be annoying for you that I get this way. I just… When we almost lost your sister…” She trails off.

  I want to comfort her, to tell her that I’m not upset, that there’s nothing wrong with her. Still, I say nothing.

  “Both of you, you’re my favorite people in the whole world. I don’t know what I would do… without…” she clams up, unable to finish the sentence.

  The vivid pain and fear of the dream flash through my mind. If that had happened in real life, would I have died? Would I ever see Lana again? Would I ever see mom again? I feel tears welling up. I want to tell her how much I love her, but still, I say nothing.

  “I’m sorry that I overreact sometimes. I just…”

  I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s like I’m paralyzed. I can’t bring myself to say anything. I’m begging my lips to open, for the words I need to say to come out. But as I finally turn toward the door, something horrible happens.

  “I just can’t let anything happen to you. Alex, you’re-”

  “Fuck! Just listen to yourself! You can’t let anything happen to me? I know! You don’t let anything happen to me! Nothing!” I shout at her, unable to stop myself.

  “That’s why I don’t do anything! Nobody respects me! Girls don’t know I exist! I don’t get invited to hang out. I don’t have cool stories. I don’t have fun. I’ve never even been on a date! Why do people treat me like a loser? Because YOU still insist on treating me like a baby when I’m already an adult! THAT’S why!”

  “Alex! That's…” She’s at a loss for words. I look on in horror, desperately trying to stop myself, to hold my tongue, to apologize. I can’t even raise my hands to cover my mouth. My mind is flailing for the reins of my body, but it’s not in control at all. I feel my tongue moving to form words that I don’t mean in the slightest. It’s an uncanny and nauseating sensation. It’s my body, but it's not me. I am held captive in a stranger’s skull as their tirade continues in my own voice.

  “No! I know your angle, so don’t even start! Stop trying to guilt trip me about Lana! You always try to use her! She hasn’t been sick since Elementary school, goddamn it! You just use your emotions as a shield so you can keep me in a box! You don’t want me or Lana to grow up, because when we do, your precious little babies won’t have to listen to you nagging them about everything and making them follow all these fucking rules!”

  “Alex, you know that’s not true! I’m sorry that I upset you, but that doesn’t mean-”

  “Shut up! I’m sick of it! I’m sick of talking to you so you can guilt trip me and police my life! Yeah, yeah, I’m sick, I know. I’m staying home like you wanted. That’s fine. I do what you ask and I follow your rules. Isn’t that enough? Why do you have to come act all sorry and tell me you want to talk? You think you’re being nice? I don’t want to talk because you don’t want to talk! You don’t care about what I think! You only want to interrogate me so you can suck even more of anything that’s good out of my life. And using Lana as your shield? That’s the bullshit that’s really upsetting me!”

  Air gets caught in my throat. I cough and hack into my sleeve. The coughs erupt from me just as involuntary as the words that preceded it. There is a long, anxious silence that follows.

  “Alex… if you need some time to yourself, then that’s okay. I just… Sorry. Just make sure to get enough rest. I love you.”

  Her footsteps pat down the hall delicately.

  There are tears in my eyes, but are they really mine? Are they the tears of being unable to reach out to someone hurting when they need you the most? Are they the tears of attacking someone you so desperately want to comfort? Or are they the bitter tears of the raging stranger puppeteering around my body? Why is this happening to me?

  It's 10 at night. I toss out the vomit, brush my teeth, and go to bed early. Maybe things will make sense in the morning.