Unspoken Truths
Arthur followed Eleanor down the hall, each step heavier than the last. His father was waiting in the living room, standing near the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back. The flickering glow of the fire cast deep shadows over his face, making the already tired lines on his features seem even more pronounced.
Eleanor sat on the armrest of the couch, arms crossed, gaze unreadable. Arthur, on the other hand, remained standing, a wary tension settling into his shoulders.
His father sighed, rubbing his temples before speaking. "Arthur… what happened at school?"
Arthur scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, you mean the part where I beat the crap out of my 'best friend' after catching him with my girlfriend? Or the part where the school decided I needed a time-out for reacting like a normal human being?"
His father's eyes narrowed slightly. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."
Arthur stiffened. A slow, crawling sensation ran up his spine.
Eleanor shifted, glancing between them. "Dad…" she hesitated, then exhaled. "Just tell him."
Arthur's pulse quickened. "Tell me what?"
His father turned to face him fully, his expression unreadable. For the first time in Arthur's life, he noticed something strange in the way his father looked at him—not the usual exasperation or the occasional warmth. No, this was something else entirely.
This was caution.
"Arthur," his father began, voice quieter now. "Did anything… unusual happen during the fight?"
The question knocked the breath out of him.
For a brief second, the memory slammed into him—Jeff's eerie, unmoving smile beneath his fists. The way the air had shifted, thick with something unseen. The static in his veins. The darkness pressing against his skull like an impending collapse.
Arthur swallowed. He could still feel the blood on his knuckles, still hear Megan's laughter ringing in his head like a ghost's whisper.
He forced a smirk. "Define 'unusual.' Because honestly, Dad, the fact that I didn't break his damn nose feels pretty unusual to me."
His father's jaw tightened. Eleanor looked away, pressing her lips together.
Arthur's patience cracked. "Oh, for God's sake, will someone just say it?"
His father exhaled through his nose, as if making a decision. Then, finally—
"You're changing, Arthur."
The words hit him harder than any punch ever could.
For a long moment, the only sound was the crackling of the fire.
Arthur forced out a laugh, but it felt hollow. "Wow. What a revelation. Really, Dad? That's all you've got? Of course, I'm changing, it's called growing up—"
"You know that's not what I mean."
His father's voice was sharp now, cutting through Arthur's deflection like a blade.
Arthur's breath hitched. His father had never used that tone with him before.
The uneasy silence stretched between them.
Eleanor finally broke it. "I knew something was happening," she admitted, voice softer. "I heard you in your room last night. You were talking to someone."
Arthur's throat tightened. The image of his reflection grinning at him flashed behind his eyes.
"You were dreaming, weren't you?" Eleanor pressed. "About the past?"
His skin felt too tight, his blood too cold.
His father's expression darkened. "And the voice, Arthur? The one you keep hearing?"
Arthur felt the floor beneath him tilt slightly.
They knew.
They had known something was coming.
Something was wrong with him, and they had known.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet. "How long have you two been keeping secrets from me?"
His father looked at him for a long time. Then—
"Since the day you were born."
Arthur's breath left him in a sharp exhale. His head spun.
No.
No. That wasn't—
"You're lying," he whispered.
His father met his gaze, unwavering. "I wish I were."
Arthur staggered back a step, his pulse roaring in his ears.
His whole life... every moment, every memory... was built on a lie.
And the worst part?
He hadn't even begun to uncover the truth yet.