“Okay. I’ll look at it. Also, don’t worry about looking for a house. I’ll reach out to a realtor to see if the company has any houses in the area. That way we only have to deal with one company for both properties.”
“Yeah, that’s smart.”
A few minutes go by before Gavin says,“I emailed the realtor now and sent an offer worth more than the listing price. I’ll let you know when it goes through. Do you need anything else taken care of on my end?”
“You’re good to go. Can you let Ramos know the plans? And uh, thanks. You don’t have to come with me. Just because I can’t stay doesn’t mean you have to leave too.”
“Yeah, I got you. I’ll text you later with all the details, plus I’m sure Ramos will be happy with the promotion.” He chuckles softly.
As he walks out the door, he throws over his shoulder, “You’re my brother. Of course I’m going with you. Who else will keep your ass out of trouble?”
I just laugh as he slams the door behind him. I don’t know what I’d do without him.
Chapter 3
Emily
Do you ever question reality?
Do you ever wonder if everything around you is real?
Lately, I have doubted everything around me. What I see. What I hear. I doubt every decision and step I make. At this point, do I even really exist?
Everything seems too much– My feelings– I either feel too much, or nothing at all. Colors were too bright, sounds were too loud, and my skin felt too tight. My thoughts ping ponged off the walls of my brain.
I’m not sure if I’m sane or a maniac.
What if I’m a ghost? Maybe I just need a therapist, but then again, if I AM real, it would only add character to my already charmingpersonality.
It’s very possible that I’m just finally losing my mind, but I can’t even remember the last time I talked to someone who wasn’t myself.
Well, myself or Trevor.
He’s been by my side since I woke up in the hospital. Other than him, it’s almost as if people don’t see me. They walk past without acknowledging me, like I’m translucent, invisible to the world around me.
Last week, someone bumped into me and acted like it didn’t happen. Hence, why I’m starting to believe I’m either a ghost, or a figment of my own imagination. How cool would that be, to think yourself into existence?
It doesn’t help that I have no memory of how I got to the hospital, or why I was actually there.
Maybe I died and I’m simply roaming the Earth.
It would make a great story.
If only it were true.
I continue my path down the over-crowded sidewalk while I try to make sure I’m only talking to myself inside of my head, and not out loud.
If I’m real and people CAN see me, I’d rather them not know I talk to myself, or hear the type of conversation that I have. They’d probably think I was on drugs or something.
You know, I never liked how busy this part of the city is. It makes me feel weird. Somewhere between my skin itching, and wanting to throw up.
I don’t really do people well. If that makes sense? It always feels forced or like I’m pulling teeth. I think it’s probably just anxiety but, who has time for that?
I start thinking about what I can remember about my life.
I vividly remember my mother telling me I had an overactive imagination growing up, that could be why I feel this way. I can hear her southern drawl in my head, “Emily, I swear the only friends you make are them fictional ones you read bout in these books.” She never said it with heat or anger. I don’t even think she meant it in a bad way.
I was always antisocial, an introvert. I preferred burying my nose in a book over hanging out with people who added very little substance or meaning to my life.
