Mayhem by Artist Arthur Page A

myself. Arguing with my dad or anybody else for that matter just doesn’t seem worth it. Or at least it didn’t, until now.
    â€œI don’t think so.”
    â€œWhat do you mean you don’t think so? You don’t know what this is all about. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. None of you do!”
    â€œBut I feel like I have to do it.”
    â€œYou don’t have to. Say no, turn away from it and it’ll go away.”
    I can hear the urgency in his voice. He wants me to believe what he’s saying and he wants me to obey him. But I don’t think I can.
    â€œI don’t know, Dad” is all I say. “I just don’t know.”
    â€œI’m warning you, Jake. For all our sakes, just walk away from this.”
    Then he stands up and walks out of my room as abruptly as he came in. That’s how it is with Dad. He says what he wants, then he’s done with it. I never get explanations from him. He just is who and what he is, for better or worse.
    I definitely put him in the “for better” category, since he’s the one who decided to stick around. Ever since my mom left he’s been both Mom and Dad to me, he’s caretaker to my grandfather and the sole provider for all three of us. I help out around the house and with Pop Pop, because I know my dad can’t do everything—even though he tries. I’m glad he stuck around, that he thought I was worth it. So I can understand why he’s afraid.
    But I’m not.
    I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid again.

six
    My eyes open and every nerve in my body is alert. I’m awake even though I’m positive it’s still nighttime. I’m in my room, lying in my bed. But I’m not alone. I know that as surely as I know my name.
    He’s here, the one who is a part of me. He’s waiting.
    For what I’m not sure. But I sit up in the bed and let the energy flow through my body. It flows like a cool breeze, like icy-cold water sipped through a straw. I feel it filling me up like a balloon, inflating me.
    When my legs move and my feet hit the floor, I’m staring at absolutely nothing in front of me. And yet I feel him. I don’t know, maybe it’s an it. But because I really believe he’s a part of me I’ll keep referring to it as him.
    It’s time you know the truth, he tells me.
    I nod, like, “yeah, I’m ready to know the truth.” I don’t know why but I don’t think speech is necessary. He’s inside me, inside my mind and my body. So whatever I think or say he knows.
    To the window, he says, and I get up from the bed and walk to my window.
    Open it.
    I do.
    Now jump.
    Huh?
    I turn back looking around the room at nothing once more.
    Trust me, Jake.
    I take a deep breath. It’s two stories. I guess I could break a leg or maybe my ankle, or if I fall wrong, my arm. I’d definitely bruise my face, which wouldn’t ordinarily bother me, but with the swollen nose Pace gave me today I don’t think I need any more bruises in that area.
    Okay, so I lean through the window, then decide I can’t do it looking down. I turn, sit my butt on the sill, then twist so that my feet are hanging out the side of the window. There’s a crisp breeze blowing, actually it’s cutting against the bare skin of my legs and feet. This morning it was like an inferno, and now this. But it’s Lincoln, and we have wacky weather all the time, so I’m not at all concerned.
    Well, yeah, I am, because as I sit here thinking about the weather I’m hesitating to jump. Obviously, I’m hesitating too much, as I feel a push from behind, then I’m just out there, flailing in the breeze. When I think I’m going to crash into the ground with a loud thud that will wake Pop Pop and break all my bones, the exact opposite happens. It’s not a fast fall, just a slow-motion drop. I can see myself going down but not