3 Years Later

The room was barren.

Bits of wooden splinters scattered here and there but for the most part, there was nothing to be seen. Whatever furniture that used to be here was now gone, perhaps moved away or stolen or a mixture of the two really.

The only thing left was a scr.a.p.ed up barrel that was dragged up two floors. The contents beginning to crackle away as flames caused the shadows to dance about. There was barely any sounds here. With the windows boarded up, even the never-ending groans were mere static in the background noise of quiet heaving.

An empty husk of what the room used to be was the perfect refuge. Something that was of the norm.

It was nothing new to be jumping from room to room. Those who were smart never stayed in one place long enough. No, it was normal to be saying goodbye before you could ever say hello. Sure, if you try hard you can find the occasional village. Towns maybe. Hell, a city or two if you're actually lucky.

But staying stationary was never an option. At least that's the case for me.

Months go by where I will pack my house into a single bag and then leave. Leaving nothing but rotting corpses and empty cans. I was used to the solidarity, used to the quiet, used to the muteness of it all.

Which makes this situation at hand all the more surreal.

In the midst of darkness was breathing that weren't mine. One was fast beat, hell maybe even near wheezing. The other was slow, deep, and quiet. Barely noticeable except for the hint of a whistle.Their faces fading in and out of view as the flames danced about. The effect making them appear like mere ghosts but I know that they were there. If I could gather the courage to actually reach out, I'd be able to confirm it.

But I think if I did, my mind would break.

"How long do you think it'll take?" Said one of the ghosts, breaking the silence. His hand coming up to scratch at his beard in that familiar uneasy manner.

"If we don't f.u.c.k around, maybe a day and a half at the latest…" Spat out the other one, his own fingers reach up to fiddle with a braid. Trying to tighten the loose bead that resided there. "Can't do anything with this much Zs about."

I just nodded silently. Somewhere along the line I became mute again. My vocal cords shut tightly and all I could do was give a meek smile of acknowledgement. Nervousness causing my nails to trail upwards to pick at the scabs that littered my neck and temples. Every ounce of me trying not to dig past the skin but the others didn't seem to care too much about what I do.

You'd think that after what's happened, we'd actually grow closer. Now it feels like we were barely tethered together.

I'm not sure how long we can keep going like this. Pretending that the others were mere fabrications of our mind. How far can we go on? Won't such a disconnect be our end?

I don't know how much more I can take this.