My head was in disarray when I left Eleanor's house and walked home. It was nearing summer and the sun shone brightly in the sky, but it was nearing dinner time.

Both my parents had managed to get leave from whatever it was that they did for work nowadays — I wasn't actually sure — and most of my morning had been spent with them. Then I spent some alone in my room trying not to freak out before I decided to leave to talk with Eleanor.

My parents hadn't wasted any time. Both had, understandably, been extremely worried after I went to the hospital. They spent all morning asking questions and freaking out about yesterday and what had happened to me. I told them about my encounter with Gold Rock and ended up blaming my fainting on me being shaken from that encounter and the truck almost hitting me.

When they wondered why I was even around that part of town, to begin with, I had to lie about wanting a change of scenery on my route home. I couldn't very well tell them that I'd started taking a longer route home during the last week because I wanted to hang out with my imaginary friend.

No. Not imaginary. Eleanor herself told me that was unlikely. I just hope she's right because I'm having a hard time believing Jen was just invisible all along, or something equally nonsensical. All of this was nonsensical.

Still, whatever Jen was, I was the only one who could see her. I didn't feel like being labeled as a crazy person by everyone I knew, so avoiding mentioning that I see people that might or might not be there felt like the wisest option.

Although my parents probably suspected that I was withholding something from them. But they didn't pry any further, and after I explained the situation they just tried helping me calm down and talk about other things. My dad also asked me more about my encounter with Gold Rock. Apparently, he'd met him a few times before for work-related matters and was interested in what he was up to. I'm just thankful they didn't decide to push much further.

Even though I knew it was too much to hope for, I'd gone to Eleanor's place whishing that she'd somehow magically have the answers to all my questions. I managed to keep up the façade in front of my parents, but on the inside, it'd felt like my mind was falling apart piece by piece ever since the incident. Even though I didn't see her get hit by the truck — and by all recounts, it hadn't even happened to begin with — I still had had a vivid image in my head of her face just before it happened.

That image had haunted me as I felt like I was going crazy. The talk with Eleanor had helped me calm down a bit and made me realize that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't going crazy after all. But that image still haunted me now.

What Eleanor had asked me to do also troubled me. She'd basically asked me to pretend like none of it ever happened for a couple of weeks until she returned.

Even though I trusted Eleanor, I still had a hard time accepting that. Why couldn't she help right now? What use would it do to ignore the matter for such a long time? What kind of business trip did she have to go on that was that important? Was there really no other choice?

In the end, I couldn't figure out the answer to any of those questions. But despite my apprehension, I decided to try and follow her request.

As I reached home, I used a garbage bin to climb atop the garage next to the house. From there I jumped onto and grabbed the edge of the second-floor balcony before sneaking inside. I'd never used this way to sneak out before, but I knew my sister did sometimes. Unlike me, she was the kind of person who went to parties with her friends. Maybe I would have done that sometime if I could stay awake past eight. Or had friends. Although I guess you don't necessarily need to know people at a party.

Carefully climbing the stairs and entering, I closed the door behind me and lay down on my bed. I considered trying to study but soon decided against it. Better to sleep after a day like this. My head had barely touched the pillow before I felt my consciousness start to drift away.

It was odd considering the circumstances, but I slept better that night than I ever remember doing any other time in my life

The following couple of weeks were both some of the worst weeks I'd had up till now, and some of the best.

There were several reasons why they were bad. But there was only one reason why they were good. However, that was one major reason.

I could finally sleep.

For as long as I could remember, I'd had problems with insomnia and sleepwalking, to the point where it's shaped my daily routine. Because of my lack of sleep during the nights, my daily life has always been filled with naps and weariness — leaving me almost no free time to do anything much, really.

During these last two weeks, I'd had, at a minimum, ten hours of undisturbed sleep every night. And it felt great. I don't think I've ever shown it much, but a lack of sleep really puts a damper on your mood. Being in a state like that non-stop for years, it really affects you.

With me finally being rid of that ever-present sense of lethargy, I felt as if I could do anything. I was full of energy and — despite my current circumstances — I was happier than I'd been for long. It even rivaled how I felt when I got to hang out with Jen on a daily basis. Sometimes I'd even ran to school in the morning just for the hell of it. I didn't even mind arriving all sweaty, or the looks I got from my classmates.

My newfound delight at being able to sleep for real was almost large enough to make up for all the bad things these past weeks. It was that major. But only almost.

Even though Eleanor asked me to forget about the matters regarding Jen for now, I couldn't really do that. Believe me — I tried. But that's the thing about trying not to think about something. By actively avoiding thinking about something, you inadvertently think about it even more.

I spent more of my newly-found spare time thinking over everything that had happened than I'd like to admit. Not that I got much further than what Eleanor had said. Of course, I'd thought up several dozen different scenarios to explain everything — each more absurd than the next — but in the end, I didn't have any proof. I'd made sure to focus more on the people around me to see if any of them might not really be there, but I hadn't noticed anyone abnormal so far.

Without being able to find any answers on my own, I could only anxiously wait for Eleanor to return. Hope that she could somehow help me — even though all of this might be far outside of her job description. But she'd promised she'd help, and at the moment, I'd take any chance I get no matter how slim.

Except for me freaking out about that for two weeks, things were also made worse by the situation at home. It wasn't like me and my parents were fighting, but we weren't talking much either. There was only an awkward environment. They'd keep trying to talk to me about how I was feeling, and I'd keep lying and tell them I was fine — even though both parties knew that wasn't true. But I couldn't tell them more. I just couldn't. Not right now.

However, the worst part wasn't any of that. The worst part of these past two weeks was related to school.

You would think that with me now being able to stay awake in school — except for Mrs- Rickshaw's classes — I'd have an easier time with my studies. That's what I thought too. But then, when I, during the first day of school after the incident, sat down for the first lesson and picked up my textbook — I realized how wrong I'd been.

Despite all that time I'd spent studying with Jen, I couldn't make sense of anything of what we were currently covering. If the teacher explained one topic at the start of class I'd either have to spend the remainder of that lesson trying to grasp just that thing, and then miss the rest of the class, or ignore what the teacher said and hope I'd have an easier time understanding it by reading about it in the textbooks.

Which I seldom had.

Needless to say, this wasn't an effective way of learning. Even when I spent a lot of my time at home studying to catch up, I'd have problems and end up spending hours on the simplest of things. This meant that I spent two weeks in school feeling more like an idiot and a failure than I ever had before. Just what I needed right now.

This whole matter with Jen had affected me more than I thought it would — and I already thought it would affect me quite a bit. It was clear something wasn't quite right with my mind right now.

To be exact, it had now been sixteen days since the incident, and fifteen since I talked with Eleanor. I'd gone to her place to look, and she still hadn't returned. When she said a couple of weeks, I'd assumed she meant two weeks. But sometimes when people say 'a couple' they actually mean more than two weeks. I wonder what she meant? Oh, the vagueness of semantics...Hopefully, she'll be back soon.

I was currently jogging back from Eleanor's place, having checked and found it empty once again after another unenlightening day of school.

As I arrived at the house I unlocked the door and kicked off my shoes in the hallway before entering the kitchen. No one else was home, which meant I had the place all to myself. Taking out a jug of milk from the fridge together with the ingredients for a ham sandwich, I started making myself an afternoon meal.

With a newly-made sandwich in my mouth, I then ascended the stairs up to my room while pulling out today's PE-class clothes from my backpack. I had just removed my sneakers from it when I entered the room.

Then my sandwich dropped to the clean wooden floor. I didn't notice that though. I was too surprised by what I saw and had frozen completely.

In the chair in front of my computer desk sat a boy, one of his legs crossed over the other and hands clasped together above them.

With bright, hazel-colored eyes, he stared intently at me, a serious expression stuck on his barely-tanned face. A bit on the short side, he had a slender physique and disheveled short brown hair.

I didn't even need to think about who this boy was. I recognized him immediately. After all, I was looking at a complete mirror-image of myself.

"Hello, Rick," The copy said in a familiar, but slightly different, voice. "We have to talk."