I clamped my hand over my mouth.<\/p>\n
Every muscle in my body locked in place. I didn\u2019t dare breathe. The shadow shifted slightly, like he was looking around the room, taking inventory. I recognized that habit. I did the same thing when I was stressed.<\/p>\n
He sighed, long and annoyed, and I heard the scrape of my dresser drawer opening.<\/p>\n
\u201cUnbelievable,\u201d he muttered. \u201cSame old junk.\u201d<\/p>\n
The drawer slammed shut. My stomach twisted. He wasn\u2019t panicking. He wasn\u2019t sneaking. He was comfortable. Too comfortable.<\/p>\n
Then he sat on my bed.<\/p>\n
The mattress dipped inches from my face.<\/p>\n
I felt the weight of him through the frame, felt it vibrate straight into my chest. I could smell his cologne\u2014cheap, familiar, something I hadn\u2019t worn in years but knew by heart.<\/p>\n
Memories rushed in like a punch.<\/p>\n
The way my father used to complain about noise.
The way he criticized everything I did.
The way his voice sounded when he thought no one was listening.<\/p>\n
It couldn\u2019t be.<\/p>\n
I swallowed hard, my throat burning.<\/p>\n
He stood up again and paced the room, muttering under his breath about bills, about \u201ckids these days,\u201d about how nothing ever stayed the way it should. Every word confirmed what my gut already knew.<\/p>\n
This wasn\u2019t a stranger.<\/p>\n
This was my father.<\/p>\n
The man I buried three years ago in a small cemetery outside Dayton, Ohio. The man whose death certificate I signed. The man I watched lowered into the ground.<\/p>\n
My vision blurred.<\/p>\n
I heard him walk into the bathroom. The faucet turned on. He coughed. That same dry cough he\u2019d had for decades. The sound echoed off the tiles like a ghost clearing its throat.<\/p>\n
Something inside me snapped.<\/p>\n
I slid out from under the bed, my legs shaking so badly I nearly collapsed. I grabbed the baseball bat I kept in the closet, gripping it with both hands.<\/p>\n
The bathroom door opened.<\/p>\n
He froze when he saw me.<\/p>\n
For a moment, neither of us moved.<\/p>\n
His face went pale. Not shocked\u2014annoyed. Like I had interrupted him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell are you doing here?\u201d he barked.<\/p>\n
My knees nearly gave out.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re dead,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI buried you.\u201d<\/p>\n
He scoffed. \u201cDon\u2019t be dramatic.\u201d<\/p>\n
The bat slipped slightly in my sweaty hands. \u201cThe funeral. The hospital. The paperwork. I paid for everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
He rubbed his temples, irritated. \u201cYou think a piece of paper stops a man from coming home?\u201d<\/p>\n
Coming home.<\/p>\n
The word hit harder than any insult he\u2019d ever thrown at me.<\/p>\n
I backed away slowly. \u201cThen explain the yelling. The noise. The neighbors.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed, short and bitter. \u201cI get bored. I talk to myself. Same as always.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach churned. \u201cYou\u2019ve been living here. In my house.\u201d<\/p>\n
He crossed his arms. \u201cI built this place with my own hands. I don\u2019t care whose name is on the deed.\u201d<\/p>\n
That was the truth, twisted the way only he could twist it. The house was in my name now. I paid the mortgage. I paid the taxes. Every month, thousands of dollars out of my own pocket.<\/p>\n
And yet, he acted like I was the intruder.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can\u2019t stay,\u201d I said, my voice shaking but louder now. \u201cYou don\u2019t belong here.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes narrowed. \u201cUngrateful. Just like your mother said.\u201d<\/p>\n
Something cracked open in my chest.<\/p>\n
I realized then that I wasn\u2019t afraid of him.<\/p>\n
I was afraid of becoming him.<\/p>\n
I lowered the bat. \u201cYou\u2019re leaving. Today.\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughed again, but this time there was uncertainty behind it. \u201cAnd where am I supposed to go?\u201d<\/p>\n
I walked past him, straight to the front door, and opened it wide. Cold air rushed in. \u201cAnywhere but here.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a long moment, he stared at me. Then he grabbed his coat, muttering curses under his breath, and walked out.<\/p>\n
I locked the door behind him.<\/p>\n
I stood there shaking for a long time, listening to the silence. Real silence this time.<\/p>\n
Later that day, I changed the locks. I called a lawyer. I filed a report. I did everything I should have done years ago.<\/p>\n
That night, I slept for the first time without fear.<\/p>\n
The house didn\u2019t feel like it was holding its breath anymore.<\/p>\n
It finally felt like mine.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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