After what felt like hours of begging, Wraith finally agreed to let me stop back by my house to say goodbye. As I walked through the empty rooms, nostalgia hit me like an anchor, crushing my chest. There were so many memories stored within these walls, including those from before my self-imposed amnesia. I shake my head. I only feel hollow inside. Everything has happened so fast that it’s sucked everything out of me. My very soul feels empty.
I sigh and step into my room. My friends and I all smile out of glass cases from picture frames, posing together in front of the White House, Disneyworld, and Hershey Park. We always did everything together. Dad was well known and loved in the community, and my friends’ parents were always happy to let their kids come with us on our trips. Everyone pities a widower with a daughter. Sympathy is a feeling I know very well. Know and hate.
It’s the box of black clothes on my bed that attracts my attention next. Oh, how I hated everything in there. My entire world here was built on the absence of black, the absence of the absence of color. Ironic that the absence of color is going to hopefully help keep me somewhat camouflaged while I’m hunting for Kendra. I pull out a well-loved pair of worn-in leather pants, then reach for a black long-sleeve shirt. Most Eidolons and ghosts are impervious to cold, but I’m still too human to be immune.
Wraith materializes in the doorway as I’m lacing up my boots. “Ready?”
I toss my hair into a ponytail and turn down the last picture of me and Ryan. “Yes.”