The Tragedy of Eden's Gate

11 - Revelation

I startle awake to the soft tap of knuckles against wood. I'm submerged beneath warm sheets, blinking blearily, and, sitting at my side, Sam's vague form flickers as he studies the notebook lying open before him.

Eager sunlight streams in through the thin curtains, casting a warm, speckled glow over my messy room. I really need to unpack all my shit instead of making piles and calling it organisation.

Right as my door creaks open, Sam meets my gaze, smiles softly, and asks, "Did my theories bore you to sleep?"

"Theo, honey," mum says, pulling my sleep-softened attention. She's dressed in her nurse's uniform with a bag slung over her shoulder. "Sorry for waking you up. I've got a shift, so lock up when you leave, alright? Leftovers are in the fridge— I tried waking you up last night but you were out cold."

"I'm always cold," I dismiss, rubbing my eyes as I try to come awake properly.

"You've got a year before university, darling, so don't wear yourself out too early," she continues, sending a pointed look to the notebook. She must think it's a particularly in-depth analysis of that murder-mystery book Cliff gave me. Her gaze slides harmlessly over Sam, as though he's nothing but empty air. I suppose, to her, he's exactly that.

"I won't."

"University?" Sam echoes with a grin. "I didn't know you were smart."

"That's debatable," I mumble.

Sam stifles a laugh, even though only I can hear him. I appreciate the sentiment, anyhow.

"What was that, hon?" mum asks, frowning lightly at me.

"I said, 'have fun at work.'"

She smiles, suspicions doused at once. "You, too."

Once the door clicks shut behind her, and once her creaking footsteps fade into silence as the front door slams shut, I roll onto my back and stretch.

"I remember something," Sam admits.

I gape at him, startled. "You do?"

He nods, vague brows pinching together as he lifts his incorporeal gaze to mine. "I remember telling Ryan about my crush, when the girls went to explore and Nathan was pissing in a bush."

I pull a face at that lovely image, my opinion of Nathan staying right where it is on the floor, but it quickly falls. "You remember all that?"

"Bits and pieces. I remember he looked... hurt, or angry, or something. So I left before things could get more awkward. Then it all goes dark again."

"That's good. I mean, not that it was awkward, but it's good you remember that," I manage, desperately trying to clear the sleepy smoke from my mind. I offer him a smile. "Maybe you don't need my help solving this after all. Maybe you're figuring it out for yourself."

Sam fervently shakes his head and gestures to the notebook. "No, I've spent years trying to remember something, and all I got was the sensation of being shoved. I think there's a reason you can see me. It's like you're helping draw it out, helping me... confront it, you know? Instead of just wallowing in pity for the rest of forever."

"Hey— we all need to wallow in pity every now and then," I defend, gazing up at the chipped ceiling as I think over my breakdown last night with fresh eyes. It did feel good to vent, I have to admit, instead of letting it drown me. "I'm gonna speak with Ryan today and find out what he knows, even if it kills me," I tell him, determination coating my voice; a suit of armour.

Sam snorts, bemused. "Please don't joke about that."

"Sorry," I say with a laugh.

The prospect of a fresh start and a new day to tackle this murder case has me venturing out of the warm sheets and into the icy conditions of my bedroom. I dress quickly, too cold and too distracted with my thoughts to worry about remaining decent beneath Sam's attention.