Or at least, it looks like Rich. He seems dazed, his hair mussed like he was just sleeping. There's a pen on the floor beside him, and in his hands, a knife.]
Do I look like the sort of person who is upset about someone being dangerous? Though I do have a question or two for you. Are you Rich, or are you... someone else?
[...He doesn't want to talk about this. It hurts to have to talk about this, and not hide everything. He wishes he could retreat away into his dreams... but he gave that up for a reason.
He has to keep going.]
He got upset when we played the hangman game. He was worried about Rich, so he texted him... and his cell phone rang outside the door.
I couldn't get away in time. I was so scared about what would happen if he found out that I... killed him.
[He hesitates. The truth is... what will happen to Rich likely wouldn't be accepted by them. And he'd feel awful to lie to this kind man about it... almost as awful as it would feel to lose that kindness.
He backs away and shakes his head.]
...He'll be okay. That place is happier. You can't get hurt there. I-If you want, I can let you go there too.
...We called it Headspace. It was... a place where all our friends were safe and happy. We could all go on adventures together. No one ever got hurt... no one ever had to confront anything painful.
[The boy in Rich's body hugs himself.]
You don't understand. He isn't dead... but he can't come out and face you, I don't think. He's not strong enough... he needed someone else to handle it for him instead.
[His arms tighten around himself, and he breathes out, slowly.]
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And you could do that with someone else's soul, then?
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i have to try to get my family back.
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[He stares at it for a moment, and writes "prodigal son" on the paper.]
How's that, then?
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you got your clue then.
and you'll have your family, too.
i hope you'll be happy.
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[He slides the paper back, and cautiously moves to get his revolver from the drawer where he's left it.]
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before he disobeys you again.
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Or at least, it looks like Rich. He seems dazed, his hair mussed like he was just sleeping. There's a pen on the floor beside him, and in his hands, a knife.]
Hello, Dad. You seem upset.
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We've been worried about you, lad.
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[He's sure all of the truth he had tried to hide is uncovered by now. There's no point in playing coy.]
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[His tone is firm and serious.]
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You are certainly my son. But you did not answer my question, either.
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I'm not... exactly Rich. I had to borrow his body... when he got hurt in the water.
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[He's startled, despite himself.]
What happened with César, then?
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He has to keep going.]
He got upset when we played the hangman game. He was worried about Rich, so he texted him... and his cell phone rang outside the door.
I couldn't get away in time. I was so scared about what would happen if he found out that I... killed him.
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[Listen to him. He does sound like a dad, and also he's lecturing a... ghost. thing.]
Of course we're worried about Rich. We aren't quite sure what's going on, and you are... in his body, as you say.
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[His grip on the knife lessens, and he looks a little choked up.]
I just... want to find my family.
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And who is your family, then?
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[He looks away again, but at least he doesn't step back.]
I was hopeful you'd be my family too.
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[Another small step forward.]
And what would happen to Rich?
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[He hesitates. The truth is... what will happen to Rich likely wouldn't be accepted by them. And he'd feel awful to lie to this kind man about it... almost as awful as it would feel to lose that kindness.
He backs away and shakes his head.]
...He'll be okay. That place is happier. You can't get hurt there. I-If you want, I can let you go there too.
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[Yeah, he's not going to jump into that offer.]
Pain is part of life. I know that better than most. If that means Rich would die, then I don't think either of us want that, do we?
[A careful step forward.]
What should I call you?
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[The boy in Rich's body hugs himself.]
You don't understand. He isn't dead... but he can't come out and face you, I don't think. He's not strong enough... he needed someone else to handle it for him instead.
[His arms tighten around himself, and he breathes out, slowly.]
Can't we just... pretend I'm Rich, too?
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[Another step closer, and he ventures to hold out his hand.]
Why don't you give me that knife, lad?
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