_Dear Lars,_

__

_Summer is arriving. We all miss you at home. Wherever you are, please find your way. There are half as many stars without you._

__

_Love,_

_Mom and Dad_

__

“You see? I keep getting these letters in my mailbox.”

Dr. Orepheil shifts uncomfortably in his leather seat, clicking his tongue. “Well, Lars, your mother and father are dead.”

I nod.

“They are dead,” he repeats, “which means they cannot send you letters. At least, not physically. So what we have here—Lars, are you listening?”

I nod again.

“What we have here is a troll. You know what that is, don’t you? Someone who feeds off fear, anger, distress. They find vulnerable people and bait them—say things to provoke them. Someone is pretending to be your parents. To get a reaction. Maybe even to drive you insane.”

As he speaks, I watch his mouth. Words like _troll, anger, vulnerable _scatter across the floor, break apart, and vanish. I can’t catch the exact moment they disappear.

“Lars?” Dr. Orepheil says.

I look up at his full face. He’s tan, with hair almost the same color as his skin. His beard blends into his jawline, making it look like part of his bone structure. It makes me laugh, though I’m not sure why.

“Are you understanding what I’m saying?”

I nod. “My mom and dad are dead.”

“Yes. And?”

“And… they can’t write letters to me.”

He smiles softly. “Right.”

He stands and walks to his desk, rummaging through a drawer for a notepad and pen. “I’m going to increase your Miemphene dosage. It should help ease the anxious thoughts.”

I nod.

He hands me the paper. “Remember, Lars—if the thoughts get too heavy, go to the ER. It’s only a four-minute walk from your apartment.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I leave the office. I glance at the paper, then shove it into my pocket. My pace quickens. My breathing intensifies. Footsteps echo louder in my ears.

Outside, I look back—no one. I start to run.

I run the full ten minutes to my apartment and slam the door shut. I lock all five locks. Twice. I close every curtain. Unplug everything.

Then—a knock.

I peek through the peephole. It’s just Sal. My neighbor. He always checks in on me.

“Lars, I brought food! Open up.” he calls.

“What’s the passcode?” I yell.

I can see him roll his eyes. “We only dance at midnight!”

I unlock the door. He’s holding a pizza box—from my favorite place. I take it and inspect it.

“Why’s it so dark in here?” he asks, walking toward a window.

“No!” I stop him. “They’re watching.”

Sal sighs. “Who’s watching, Lars? We’ve talked about this.”

“The troll. Dr. Orepheil told me. You remember the letters I’ve been getting?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“They’re not really from my parents. Because they’re dead.”

“Yes. I know.”

“So—”

“How about you sit? Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Taken your meds?”

I don’t reply.

He goes into the bathroom and comes back with two yellow bottles. He pops one open, drops a pill into his hand.

I take it. Swallow it dry.

“Show me.”

I open my mouth. Lift my tongue.

Then the second pill. I drink water this time.

“You need to take these daily. You know that.”

I nod. “I was going to. I just… got that letter and forgot for a second.”

“Again with these letters. I told you to stop opening them. They only pull you backward.”

“Dr. Orepheil upped my Miemphene dosage.”

“Okay. Where’s the prescription? I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

I reach into my pocket. It’s not the paper—I pull out something else. Another letter.

I rip it open.

_Dear Lars,_

__

_Your friend Sal reached out. He asked us to stop writing, said you didn’t want to hear from us. We don’t believe that. Our sweet boy? That man is lying to you. Please, do something._

__

_Love,_

_Mom and Dad_

I stare at the words. Then at Sal.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You need to leave.” I say, backing away.

“Lars?”

He steps forward. I push him. He falls.

“Lars!”

I run to the kitchen and grab a knife from the sink.

My hands are shaking. I’m breathing rapidly.

“Put the knife down.”

I turn, Sal is standing again.

“Lars.” he says louder. “Put it down.”

“No. You’re lying!”

“You’re not thinking clearly.”

I go blank after that. The next thing I remember, I’m outside. Running. My shirt soaked in blood.

“Help!” I shout. “Help!”

I run all the way to the ER.

At the front desk, the receptionist screams when she sees me.

“Please! Help me!”

A nurse approaches. “Sir, calm down. Are you hurt?”

I think so. Something hurts. My vision blurs. Before I can answer, I collapse.

I wake in a hospital bed. New clothes. Balloons. Flowers. A bandage wrapped around my arm.

“You’re awake.” someone says.

It’s Dr. Orepheil. And Sal.

“What happened?” I ask.

They begin explaining, but I can’t focus. I notice someone behind them. A faceless man dressed in all black, like a shadow, but definitely human.

“Lars,” Dr. Orepheil says gently. “You had an episode—”

“Who was that?” I interrupt.

“Who?”

They look behind.

I shake my head. Something’s wrong.

“Did I get any letters?”

“Yes.” Sal says. “From your sister. She wanted to come, but work’s been hectic. She says she’ll fly out next month.”

He hands me a yellow envelope.

I open it quickly.

_Dear Lars,_

__

_I’m sorry about everything. I know things have been hard. But trust—it will get better. Mom and Dad send their love. We’re praying for you._

__

_Love,_

_Paula_

I lower the letter. Stare at them.

“No…” I whisper.

“What is it? Are you in pain?”

“No. Paula is dead.” I say. “She’s dead. My parents are dead.”

“Lars, you’re on heavy sedatives.” Dr. Orepheil says. “Your memory’s foggy. Just breathe. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Sal nods.

I take a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m not thinking clearly.”

_I’m just not thinking clearly…_