Chapter Eleven

"Well, liars, they leave a guilty trail. And let me tell you, I've been lying for years."

I woke up with a start, trying to push someone off me who wasn't there. It took me a minute to slow my heartbeat and orient myself. I was in my room, sore as if I'd slept too much with too much tension. My ribs still ached from last night. The first thing I noticed was the house, eerily quiet, except for someone typing on a keyboard next to me. I opened my eyes to see Vlad working away on a laptop, incoherent numbers taking up the screen. I glared at him for good measure before dragging my alarm clock towards myself. I sat up and almost dropped it in shock.

It was past one in the afternoon! I was never allowed to sleep in so much as past nine when Jazz was around.

"Why didn't anyone wake me up?" I asked myself, getting a bad feeling somewhere in my gut.

Vlad glanced over at me, then away without a word. Sign two that something was wrong. I licked my dry lips. "Vlad, what did you do?"

He sighed. "I don't live from evil plot to evil plot wondering what I can do to make your life difficult, Daniel."

"Could've fooled me," I muttered, getting out of bed and taking a change of clothes to the bathroom.

I looked at myself in the mirror, deep shadows still under my eyes from waking up for hours in the middle of the night every night, my face thin from skipping so many meals for weeks. That disconnect between myself and my reflection was there again, that inkling of a thought asking what he'd seen in me. Quickly, I turned my back to the mirror before I could give that thought wings.

I couldn't even hear my dad's yelling, no loud soldering of ghost weapons going on, no Christmas carols playing downstairs to see off the holidays. With my back to the bathroom door in the hallway, I concentrated and listened in with my supernatural hearing. Vlad still typing away on the computer came up first, the plumbing, cars outside – and voices downstairs, whispering as if trying to be as quiet as possible.

Sign number three that something was very off and very wrong. I could feel a twinge of panic in my chest, alarm bells in my head telling me not to go downstairs.

I headed for the stairs, the voices becoming clearer, but as I came into view of the living room the voices stopped. Something was wrong, and I was scared to find out what, but I also had to make sure my family was okay and that that wasn't the danger I was sensing.

I made it to the downstairs landing and my heart stuttered in my chest.

There was a pot of tea we never used steaming on the coffee table, crumpled tissues around it. I looked up and the first thing I saw was my mother, eyes puffy and bloodshot. My dad was staring at me with a lost look on his face, and my sister... She was pointedly looking away from me.

My breath caught. "Jazz...?"

Jazz stared at her lap, and quietly said, "Danny, I'm sorry. I had to tell them what you told me, about what happened at the college. You need help." She finally looked up, her eyes wide and guilty.

What? What I told her? The college? How could she...?

Vlad.

He'd come up the stairs yesterday, probably ran into Jazz and Sam. I remembered the hushed voices in Jazz's room. Vlad had promised not to tell my mom, but he'd never said he wouldn't tell my sister. And she was inexplicably covering for him.

"...Until I am sure how to handle this situation."

"Jazz, no," the words came out as a broken whine, and shame washed over me. Over my voice breaking, over what they now saw in me. What they saw of me.

"Danny," my mom's equally broken voice snapped me out of my shock, and she got up from the couch. I was frozen as she put her arms around me and squeezed me tightly, crying into my shoulder. "Oh, baby, my baby. I'm so sorry."

I looked wide-eyed over my mom's shoulder at my dad, his face scrunched up as if in pain, and my sister staring at me with pity.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't get enough air into my lungs, my head starting to spin as I hyperventilated. I felt like I was falling, suddenly feeling very hot and very cold at the same time. Finally, my mom let go of me and grabbed my face.

"Danny? Danny, hon', breathe."

I shook my head, feeling tears prick my eyes. I squirmed out of my mom's grasp and started to make my way to the stairs, but halfway there, I couldn't take it anymore and I collapsed against the wall, sitting myself down on the floor with knees drawn up to my chest and my head in my hands. My chest was tight, my head hurt, I felt like I was dying. I could make out my parents' and my sister's voices close to me, but I tried to block them out and didn't look up as I tried to get some air in. The embarrassment I felt made my chest constrict even more.

Jazz dragged my face out of my hands and looked me in the eye. "Danny, you need to follow my lead, okay? You're having a panic attack. Breathe through your nose into your belly for ten seconds, hold it for three seconds, breathe out through your mouth for eight seconds. Keep doing that, breathe in..."

I did as she told me, anything to stop this horrible feeling. I hated her, I hated my sister for not talking to me before telling our parents. For listening to Vlad and not even asking me about it.

"Breathe out."

I was just so scared. I wanted to look away from Jazz's kind, pitying eyes. I didn't want to look at my parents. The looks of pain, pity, compassion – I didn't deserve them. They didn't know it was my fault, but they knew. Against all my efforts, they all knew. I wanted to die.

"Breathe in..."

I wanted to tell them that Jazz was lying, I wanted to pretend I had lied to her for attention, that nothing had happened. Oh, god, I wanted it to never have happened. I would give anything for it.

"I hate you, Jazz," were the first words I could get out once I could breathe again and my heart had slowed a little.

She looked hurt, her face scrunching up in an expression I couldn't read. "Danny, I had to–"

"No! No, you didn't!" I stood up on shaky legs. I wanted Jazz to hurt as much as she'd hurt me. "Did you think I would thank you for this? That I would be your next psychotherapy experiment? Are you gonna write your thesis on me? Your poor, broken baby brother?"

Jazz got up from where she was kneeling and gave me her infuriating 'I know better than you' look. "Danny, I know you're mad, but I did it for you–"

"I don't need your pity, Jazz, or your psychoanalysis crap!"

"It's not pity! And I don't regret for one minute telling Mom and Dad, because you certainly weren't going to!"

"They didn't need to know!" I yelled, hands gesturing wildly and pressure building up in my eyes. I didn't want to cry over this, in front of all of them. They already knew I was weak and ruined, they didn't need to see me break as proof.

"Kids, stop!" my dad yelled over us, he and my mom getting in between the two of us.

"I just wanted you to talk to me, Danny, but you ignored my calls and you ignored your friends! I want to help you!"

"Help me, what, get published on your school paper? Talk to me to interview me? What, are you gonna interview the guy who fucked me, too?"

"Danny, stop!" my mom yelled, a sob following. I felt myself go cold, and looked over her as she wiped her eyes. I'd made my mother cry.

"Son–" the sentence came to an abrupt stop, and my dad cleared his throat, but I could see his eyes were glassy.

So were Jazz's, and she looked absolutely heartbroken. It dawned on me the horrible things I'd just said to her. How I'd wanted to hurt her bad. Well, I had. I was a monster.

I opened my mouth to apologize but nothing came out except a shaky sob and the tears I'd been holding back.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," I said to myself, my voice broken and whiney and showing what he'd left of me.

It was all my fault. Destroying that guy's house, the ring, the parking lot.

No. What was happening now was one other person's fault, too.

Wiping away my tears, I let the rage build up and replace the shame and pain, and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

I slammed the door to my bedroom behind me and ectoblasted Vlad's laptop. He turned around with shock on his face, until he saw me, then he just looked resigned.

"You," I snarled. "You told my sister."

Vlad sighed. "Yes, I did. I did it because–"

"I know why you did it! It's because you live to make my life miserable! Well, you've won, Vlad! You've ruined my life!"

"Oh, stop being dramatic. This isn't the end of the world. Outside of some well-deserved payback, I've never wanted to see you miserable! That's why I wish you'd just renounce Jack, because all I want is for you to be as happy as–"

"You only want me to be your apprentice because of my ghost half. You don't actually care about me."

"If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have gone through the most awkward talk I've ever had and told your sister you were r–"

We both stopped and turned to the door as footsteps bounded up the hallway. Frantic knocking on the door accompanied my parents calling out my name, with my sister whispering to them in the background. My chest squeezed tight, and I could feel another panic attack coming on. Vlad put his hand on my shoulder, and I knocked it back with contempt.

"This wouldn't be happening if it weren't for you," I hissed, transforming into Phantom and rearing for a fight.

Vlad's eyes flashed red. "Well, that man would never have touched you if you would have stayed with me in Wisconsin from the beginning!"

He might as well have slapped me.

Vlad's eyes went wide and he loosened his posture. "Daniel, I didn't mean to imply–"

"Get out," I deadpanned, feeling numb and spent. I couldn't blame Vlad. He was right. Not about moving in with him, but there was a lot I could've done to stop what happened.

I could feel Vlad staring at me, and looked up to glare at him. He looked back at me with an expression I couldn't read, then nodded and turned to leave. I heard him whisper to my parents as he closed the door behind him.

The tension in me loosened a bit, but even that much made it easier to breathe. Inexplicably, I felt an intense hunger. Opening my window, still hearing voices out in the hallway, I grabbed a small bag of pretzels off my bedside table and took to the skies.

I needed Tucker. I needed my best friend to help me pretend my life hadn't just crashed down all around me. Hoping against hope that Tucker was home, I phased through his bedroom window. I could hear kids yelling downstairs, and I could make out Tucker's voice among the rabble too. I got out my phone and sent a quick text.

Upstairs, your room.

Transforming back into my human half, I laid back on Tucker's bed and waited. A few minutes later, Tucker showed up and closed the door behind him.

"Hey! I was just gonna text you to see if you wanted to go somewhere today. I still haven't seen that movie you and Sam went to," he said, then the smile slipped from his face. "Dude, what's wrong?"

I sat up and frowned. "Nothing's wrong! Just Vlad ruining my life as usual. I needed to get out of there. Hey, with some luck, Vlad will be gone by the time I get back! He's gotta be overdue for some evil scheming to do or something."

Tucker broke eye contact with me all of a sudden and started fiddling with his PDA. "Uh, yeah."

No. Not Tucker, not now, not him. I couldn't take anymore of this today. "Tucker, spit it out," I said, wanting the bandaid ripped off quickly.

Tucker bit his lip, but eventually sat down next to me with a sigh. "Sam called me last night. She told me what Vlad did with the cameras, and that he'd told her and Jazz about it. That you were... you know."

I felt my eyes watering for the nth time that day, so I grabbed a pillow and screamed into it as loud as I could. A silent sob hiccuped in my chest as I tried to keep myself together.

"Not you too, Tucker. You were supposed to be my safe space away from all this bullshit," I mumbled into the pillow. I felt a hand on my back, and had to stop myself from tossing Tucker across the room. I felt so weak. A guy shouldn't be like this, shouldn't be crying, shouldn't have let what happened happen at all.

"Hey, man. I kind of already knew, and I never saw you any different. Ever since Halloween I knew something wasn't right, then Sam... Well, I don't blame you for not telling me, or not telling anyone. I'm not sure I could've either. But like, I can still be your safe space. I promise no drama with me, just snacks and movies."

Hearing Tucker treating me like I deserved any compassion, like I deserved not to be seen differently, made me nauseous. I wanted to tell Tucker about how I blew up that guy's house, about how it was my fault, about how he had seen something in me that he thought deserving of what I got.

But in the end, I didn't have the courage.

"My parents know. My sister told them."

Tucker seemed unsurprised. "Yeah, I didn't think Jazz would keep quiet."

"Why didn't you give me a heads up?" I asked, hurt.

"Because I'm uncomfortable with this, okay? I'm bumbling around being a bad friend and I don't know what to do about this. I'm hearing from Sam that your parents should know, and I get that, but I think you should've been the one to make the decision as to when!"

It felt good to hear that, to imagine I could've had that choice, and that somebody else believed I should've had that choice. I'd had so many choices taken from me. "You're not a bad friend, Tuck'. You're my best friend," I said, deciding it was okay to be mushy just this once. "Can I crash here for the night?"

"Yeah, dude, of course. Cousins might keep you up, though."

"That's okay, I haven't really been sleeping anyway."

Tucker cocked his head then frowned. "Oh."

I realized he would now know why I hadn't been sleeping the past couple months, whereas before I could chalk it up to ghosts waking me up and trying to keep up with homework. All of which were also true, but were things I did anyway when bad dreams and anxiety woke me up in the middle of the night.

Tucker stood up suddenly. "I almost forgot!" He grabbed a gift bag from his desk and handed it to me. "Merry Christmas, Danny!"

"Ugh, why are you guys always getting me things for Christmas? That's what my birthday's for," I mock-complained, reaching my hand in and pulling out the game of the year which I'd had my eye after. "Aw, man, now I feel bad!"

"Don't. Just get me something better for my birthday. Look, I'll go get us some snacks. Rewatch Trinity of Doom?"

I nodded and smiled at him, but it was forced. I did feel bad. I didn't deserve Sam's scarf or this game. My parents didn't deserve to know without also knowing I'd brought the attack upon myself. Vlad deserved a beating, but at least he could see it was my fault and didn't have any qualms about saying so. At least someone saw me for who I was, who I'd become. My sister definitely didn't deserve what I'd said to her.

"What, are you gonna interview the guy who fucked me, too?"

It was the first time I'd said anything about what happened to me out loud. And to my sister, as if to rub it in her face knowing how she was probably feeling. The very reason I had never wanted to tell her – because she cared too much about me and because it would break her heart.

I felt like garbage.

Once Tucker got back with the snacks, I rubbed my neck in anxiety. "Hey, can you text my sister where I am? I'm kind of not talking to her right now," I said. More like my sister certainly wouldn't want me talking to her right now.

"Yeah, sure," he said and thankfully didn't ask why, already typing away on his PDA.

Fifteen minutes later, I didn't catch myself eating all the junk food Tucker had brought up until he paused the movie. "Dude, you annihilated all the snacks."

I paused and looked from the bag of chips in my hands and back to Tucker again. "Sorry," I said, mouth full.

Tucker sighed dramatically. "Guess I'll go get more."

I watched Tucker go, then a few seconds after I got up and headed for the bathroom. Back against the door, I sighed. I was deliberately planning this now, like a ritual. I could stop at any time, but I didn't want to. It had become a comforting habit. I already felt sick inside, so what more was being physically sick too? Turning on the tap, I thought of how wretched the day had been and how self-destructive I was feeling.

I wanted to hurt myself. I couldn't stop thinking about that night, just as I'd known would happen if anyone found out. It was all real now and nobody would let me forget it. I wanted to cry again, but instead I kneeled in front of the toilet and made the junk food – all I'd had that day – come back up.

By the time Tucker came back, I was already sitting in front of the screen again. I found I couldn't laugh at any funny scenes, but at least two movies later I was dozing off on Tucker's bed.

Notes: Aaand the cat's out of the bag! Thank you to the people who've reviewed, you're the ones who keep me posting! ︎:)