Page 21 of Daddy's Muse
After she left, I shut the door and stood in the middle of the room.
A coma.
Bryan was in a coma.
I sat back down on my bed, staring across at the empty one opposite mine. For his mom’s sake, I hoped he’d be alright. But, for my sake… I felt somewhat relieved. Now that I knew what had happened and where he was, my anxiety about it had vanished. Guilt fizzled in my belly when I thought of his family, but all I felt was calm.
At least until he got better, I’d have the room to myself. I wouldn’t have to worry about when he’d walk through the door, ready to make my life hell again.
I fell back onto my bed, kicking my feet in the air, when an idea hit me.
I could be little!
With Bryan in the hospital, I didn’t need to worry about him walking in on me coloring or watching cartoons.
I bit my lip to stifle the grin spreading across my face. The very thought made my chest buzz with a kind of giddy anticipation I hadn’t felt in months.
I didn’t get to be little very often, and especially not here—not with Bryan constantly around, watching me like a hawk and calling me every name in the book anytime he even suspected I was “off.” Too quiet. Too soft. Too weird. I couldn’t let myself slip—not in the way I wanted. Not safely.
Butnow… now I had space.
I rolled off the bed and dug into the bottom drawer of my desk. Beneath a mess of folders and an old hoodie I never wore, I pulled out a small drawstring bag and held it to my chest.
Inside was my emergency stash: my favorite coloring book (the one with animals dressed up like people), a small box of crayons, Steve—a plush raccoon that was so old and worn he wasfalling apart at the seams—and a pacifier I’d only ever dared use a handful of times. I held the plush close, pressing my nose into his soft fur. My whole body exhaled, and I suddenly was hit with an overwhelming urge to cry.
Not out of sadness, but relief. I snuffled into Steve’s soft tummy and let out a choked sob, my eyes leaking.
I wasn’ttotallysure what had triggered this part of me in the first place—maybe it was because of my mommy and daddy issues, maybe it was just innate. All I knew was that the world had seemed to click into place when I’d read that blog post about littles and caregivers.
I grabbed my softest pajamas from the closet—baby blue with little bears all over—and tugged them on, then climbed into bed with Steve under my arm, my paci in my mouth, and my coloring book in hand.
I barely noticed the minutes slipping by as I colored in a cute cartoon fox holding a big lollipop. I was even humming softly under my breath when the heater clicked on, startling me.
That was when I felt it again.
Thatfeeling.
Like I wasn’t alone.
I froze, the green crayon still in my hand, halfway through filling in a tree. My eyes swept the room slowly. The door was shut and locked. The closet was open, and aside from my clothes, it was empty. Bryan’s bed looked the same as before. My laptop’s little sleep light blinked steadily on my desk. Everything was just as it had been.
But I couldn’t shake it. That subtle prickle at the base of my neck. Like breath on my skin. Like—
I shook my head quickly.
“Nope,” I whispered aloud. “You’re being weird again, Colby. Paranoia. That’s all it is. There isnota ghost because no one died in here.” Hesitating, I thought of the possibility of a studentdying and haunting my room. Students did sometimes die at colleges…
Oh no, no, no, no.
“Mr. Ghost…” I addressed. “If you’re in here, please don’t haunt me. Or could you at least wait until my roommate comes back? Please?”
My eyes scanned back and forth over the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing but silence answered me.
I sighed and reached out, turning on the small desk lamp beside my bed, which flooded the room with soft, yellow light. It helped a little. Not enough to make me fully relax, but enough to keep me grounded.
Andddd, maybe the ghost—if itwasthere—was afraid of light?
I looked down at my half-finished page. The fox was smiling, completely unfazed, its little tongue peeking out of its mouth to lick at its lollipop.
