For Craig, the next few weeks were torture, every night his dreams were plagued with those fear-filled, green eyes- and he still couldn’t tell whether it was real or if it was all in his head. Then he decided, he was going to go to the house, going to find out going to end it all. He left the next morning, taking the exact same route he had taken before, well thought he had take (he couldn’t really be sure anymore). He went to the park, started from the empty bench were he had found the kid, and followed the exact same route that the boy had led him. He stood at the mouth of the street, the buildings looming over him, again. He shuffled towards the door. It was still open, surely somebody must have found that suspicious. He went back up the steps and then walked through the narrow hallway into the kitchen, there was a chair sitting, a rope was lying at the foot of it and there was a sleeping drug sitting on the table.
So it was real.