After some time, Terry slowed his pace and tapped my arm.

"You awake up there?" He asked.

"Yeah," I answered, rubbing my eyes.

"Okay." Terry set me back down and kept talking. "When we go in there, I need you to not look like you're freaking out or hurt. I don't want any misunderstandings, I just want to see our parents." I didn't feel all that scared, which made me think Terry was saying this more to himself than to me. "And I have no idea what's going on, and when Dad called me he sounded fine and said he was fine, but Mom was in a coma and-" I yawned, and Terry sighed. "Well, you seem to be doing just fine... Don't freak out." He took my hand and led us through the doors of the hospital.

I was hit with bright lights and a strong smell of antiseptic. There was a lady behind a counter on some kind of computer. She looked tired. Terry cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Oh." She looked up from the computer. "How may I help you?"

"Uh, we're here to see-"

"To see someone? Visiting hours aren't for-"

"Yes, I know, but my parents were in a crash last night and my mom is in a coma and Dad is with her and I just need to-"

"Alright, calm down," The lady cut off again. "What's your mom's name?"

"Faith Afton," Terry answered. The lady typed up something on her computer and told us to go to room 724. Terry thanked her and pulled us to an elevator, where we rode it up to the seventh floor.

The whole time Terry was rocking back and forth on his feet and biting his nails.

"Are you okay?" I asked. Terry shook his head.

"Are you?"

I didn't know. I was just tired and confused. So I just shrugged.

The elevator doors opened and we walked out, only for Terry to freeze mid-step.

"I forgot the room number," He croaked.

"It's 24," I said.

"Are you sure?" Terry asked.

"Yes."

"100 percent positive?"

"Yes!"

"We don't need to go back and-"

"Yes!" I shouted. "I know that's the room number."

"Okay, but be quiet," Terry whispered, realizing how loud we were being. "There are probably people still sleeping. It was hardly five thirty when we left the house."

We quietly walked down to the room that was marked 724: Faith Caroline Afton.

Terry froze again. He was biting his lip and I could see his hands shaking.

"Can we go in?" I asked.

"Yes, but I have no idea how... stable... Dad is," Terry responded. "Sometimes when he's emotionally messed up, he gets a little... never mind. I'll go in first, you wait here for five seconds."

Terry quietly opened the door and slid into the room, leaving the door cracked open. I could hear him talking to Dad from inside.

"Hey," Terry said. "I came as soon as I called. Michael is here, I'm just not sure if you wanted him in here right now."

"You can get him in a minute," Dad said. "Did you have to wake him up?"

"Yeah. I think he's still pretty tired."

"Not so tired that everyone within a five mile range could hear you shouting in the hall?"

"Wait, you heard that?" Terry cried.

"Eh. I heard shouting and assumed it was you two."

Terry laughed, and so did Dad. I smiled. Maybe they're actually getting along. Only Mom was hurt... is this how this family bonds? Over... hurt? I always thought this family was strange.

"Do you think Michael slept okay?" Dad asked.

"Actually, yeah. I didn't hear him screaming or thrashing around, and I actually slept fine until... you called me." Terry's voice started out humourous, but fell flat after mentioning the call. "Should I get him?"

"Sure."

After a second, Terry opened the door for me and let me in. The room was dark, only being lit by machines and the light coming in through the window. Dad was sitting in a chair by the bed, and looked like he hadn't slept in ages.

"What happened?" I quietly asked.

"Euh, drunk guy," Dad said, thinking. "He... I think he was swerving, and I might've been too, but we collided, Faith threw herself in front of me trying to use the wheel, um... I forgot that the airbags weren't working." I then noticed that Dad's eye, or the only one I could see, was bruised and being forced shut by swelling.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Black eye," Dad bantered. "Messed up nose, broken finger, couple stitches. Other mental problems."

"Uh, alright," I said. "And Mom is..."

"Coma," Dad cut off. "I've only been in here for an hour or so. She's expected to wake up, so I'm not too worried."

"But didn't she already have a bunch of other problems?" Terry asked. "Like, with her back?"

"I'm surprised that hasn't healed yet..." Dad grumbled.

"Huh?" I asked.

"Back in high school, she fell off the stage in the gym," Dad answered.

"Didn't you drop her?" Terry refuted.

"But yes, Michael, she did have some problems before with her back, and... I don't know," Dad went on. He leaned back in his chair, looking a little more relaxed. I finally got a look at Mom, and she had some cuts on her face, bruises... but other than that it just looked like she was sleeping. It looked somewhat peaceful.

"Michael, are you alright?" I heard Terry ask. It was just then I realized I had been biting my lip and squeezing my hands together until my fingers were purple.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," I said, still spacing out. "I'm still kinda tired..."

"Really, Dad, you couldn't have waited to call us?" Terry asked.

"I wanted to get you two over here as soon as possible," Dad replied. "I wasn't sure what was going to happen, and I also didn't want to leave you home all day without knowing what happened to us."

I was worried about where you were after you had been gone for three hours, I thought to myself with a scowl.

"Yes, I am aware of the contradiction in that statement," Dad said, as if he saw my expression. Or read my mind. "I know Michael, I'm sorry, I just... I didn't tell anyone you two were home. Everyone still thinks Michael is dead."

"Well..." Terry squeaked. "It's not exactly 'everyone' now..."

"Obviously," Dad said, "Because at Freddy's now, and-wait. Who did you tell?" Terry laughed nervously and tried to back up.

"Well, you remember the day he woke up, I tried to take him out to buy a calendar, and-"

"Wait, you actually left the house with him?" Dad leapt up from his chair.

"To the store," Terry said bluntly. "And the graveyard. A lot of kids and parents on the street saw us. And we ran into Rachel's mom."

"She saw Michael?" Dad looked like he was about to pass out.

"Is that a bad thing?" I asked. "Shouldn't people know I'm not dead anymore?"

"Maybe," Dad said, "But how am I supposed to explain how you just came back to life one day? What am I supposed to say, that my son died and I turned him into a robot? That's-" Dad stopped laughing and bit his lip like he had said too much. Terry looked disturbed on a deep level, and I could only imagine the look on my face.

"Charlie was right?" I whispered. Dad's eyebrows raised.

"Charlie?"

You're not you.

"Is that what I am?" I asked, more vulnerable sounding that I had hoped.

"No- Michael, that was hypothetical-"

"That didn't sound very hypothetical," Terry said, putting his hands on my shoulders. I could see Dad getting pale. "That would be just like you. And all your robots..." Terry didn't sound angry, just a little scared. "What is with you and your robots? What is this? Why is-"

"We'll talk about this later," Dad muttered, sitting back down. "I'm gonna pass out." Terry didn't let go of me at all, in fact I felt his grip tighten.

"How did you even get in here?" Dad asked. "I feel like anyone who knew this place would've recognized Michael."

"To be fair, he doesn't really look like he did," Terry said. "On top of looking older, he just doesn't look the same."

"Well that's not my problem, is it?"

"Well if he's a robot, it sure as hell is!" Terry responded, raising his voice.

"You calm down," Dad scolded. "And relax for five seconds. I haven't slept all night, and I'm sorry I woke you up so early." Terry finally let go of me and fell back into the wall. He let out a puff of air and groaned. He slid down the wall and put his head in his hands.

I sighed. So much for getting along.

We all sat quietly in the room, listening to artificial breathing and watching the sun rise. Dad was nodding off, and Terry hadn't moved. I leaned over on the bed and closed my eyes for a little bit, not expecting to fall back asleep.

I had another dream, and I was with Mom and Liz in some kind of technological experiment lab. Mom was singing, and Liz was dancing along and eating ice cream. At some point, they saw me and invited me over, and the whole time, I was expecting something bad to happen. Nothing did.

The sun woke me up before long, and I noticed that little had changed in the room. Terry and Dad were both sleeping now, and Mom might've shifted her position in the bed, but it probably was just the lighting.

"Don't leave," I whispered. "I don't want it to be just me." I took Mom's hand and squeezed it.

It was in that moment I had realized that I really didn't want Mom to die. I wasn't familiar with her, and maybe she didn't care a whole bunch about me, but I didn't want to lose her just like that. I'm sure Dad and Terry didn't want to lose her, either. I looked back out the window and thought it was about nine or so, judging on where the sun was.

"Hey, the sun is up," I said to Mom, still holding onto her hand. "Do you want to see it?"

Nothing. Not that I expected much.

Terry, Dad and I stayed in the room with Mom all day, not caring much to eat. Occasionally, a doctor would shove us out of the room to check Mom's vitals or something, but other than that, the day was uneventful.

Later into the evening, Terry said he was getting hungry, so he and Dad left to go get some food.

"You'll be okay by yourself?" Dad had asked before leaving. I nodded, and was left alone.

"The sun is setting," I told Mom. "I know you probably can't hear me, but I like to let you know." And just then, she seemed to start glowing. All the color around her looked more saturated. It got brighter and looked as if it was rising. It couldn't have lasted more than a couple seconds, but just after that time it was all gone. Mom seemed even more colorless and dull, and I heard a long, loud beep ringing through the room that sounded too real to be in my head.