A cold breeze swept across the lake, disheveling Justin's hair as he spoke. I remained calm, registering every word he uttered. Every single word.

"I know how much you're going through. I wish I could help, but..." he trailed off, unsure how to comfort me. Frustrated, he tossed a rock into the river and ran his hands through his hair.

I gave him a sideways glance. He was more handsome than I thought. Especially when he was worried, he looked more charming than ever.

For a moment, I considered telling him everything about my and Diane's relationship. But I restrained myself from doing so. I had already told him enough and didn't want to confuse him further by discussing my love life. I was confused, too. I had no idea why Diane would appear and disappear so suddenly. I had no idea why she never showed up in front of people.

So, I didn't think it was right to open up so much to Justin or anyone in particular.

"You can stay with us, you know...for the rest of your life. I've never had a brother of my own. So, I'd be more than happy to have one." He smiled at me expectantly. There was no way I could refuse his offer, but I was afraid to start living with him, especially when his dad was unhappy with me.

The last night I stayed at Justin's, his father came home and gave me an annoyed look. I had been avoiding Mr. Perry ever since.

On the other hand, Justin's mom was quite a lady. She was nice. She treated me like I was her son and served me delicious pasta. I would consider myself lucky if I could stay with such wonderful people, I thought. But unfortunately, it wasn't going to happen. My own life was already a mess, and I couldn't mess up others'.

"What have I done?" I suddenly blurted out something I didn't expect to say. "Why do things always happen to me? Why don't I have a shoulder to cry on?"

As I expressed my inner thoughts, I felt my eyes well up with tears. I realized just then how much I was holding inside. How much I needed someone who would listen to me cry.

Justin didn't say a word. He was waiting for me to stop lamenting. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and calmed my nerves a bit.

"You know what, Joe? God knows our limits. He doesn't give us so much that we can't bear it. Lord knows you're strong. He knows you can get your shit together amidst all this. You just need patience. And a little bit of love, maybe."

I knew that Justin was right. But I didn't know how to overcome the trauma I was in. No doubt I was always depressed because I had never seen my life from a different perspective or experienced life in a different way, but I was so worried about my future. I didn't know if I could make the most of it or not. I somehow knew that I was creative and had always dreamed of becoming a famous painter. But if my luck continued to go on like this, how could I believe that God truly exists?

"Have you ever seen a person who never shows up in front of anyone else but you?" I asked.

"No, that only happens when the person is dead. They call it a spirit."

Suddenly, a chill ran down my spine. Diane couldn't be dead. I knew she wasn't.

"Do spirits speak or touch things?"

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"I don't know. I've never seen a ghost."

"Can they appear and disappear so easily?"

"I'm not sure. But why are you asking me all of this?" I knew Diane wasn't dead. If she were, I could have never spent my entire childhood with her, playing. If there was no sign of her in the world, she couldn't hear my voice. Diane and I had grown up together, and if she were really a spirit, as Justin was saying, she should have told me.

"Joe?" Justin said, startling me. I stared at his concerned face. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. I think I should go. It's getting dark." I pulled myself up from the ground and slung my backpack over my shoulder. "Where are you going?" Justin asked.

"I don't know. Maybe I need to go to Danny's tonight. I want to have a few words with him."

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Meeting with my uncle was the last thing on my mind. But I couldn't ignore him like this, after all he had done, as he said to Mr. Anderson, "What he does is none of my business. I only take care of him because I'm obligated to." I wanted to know why he didn't let me know this before. Why didn't he tell me that he had nothing to do with me? I was so foolish not to know. He kept me a fool all his life. If he really had to give up on me, why did he keep me in his house in the first place? Oh, well. I was practically his servant, so... didn't he need one anymore?

I knocked on his door, and he appeared with a small beer can in his hand. Uncle Danny looked at me questioningly, as if asking what I was doing there. 'Of course, I'm not here to live with you,' I answered, inwardly and outwardly. "I need to talk to you, uncle."

I was sad and felt defeated. I knew how miserably he had let me down, yet I wanted to call him 'uncle' because he was my uncle. I couldn't lose the only blood relation I had.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked, half drunk, half serious.

"I..." My voice cracked, and I did my best not to cry. "I want to take all my stuff, only if you would let me in." I wanted to ask him all the questions that were hovering over my mind. Also, I knew that I couldn't get any answer because he wasn't in his right mind right now. So, I just let that thought slip from my head.

"Take away your things. They've been untouched since you left."

I went to the room I once thought was mine and broke down into tears. It was a damp room full of sorrow and tears that I had shed in the sixteen years of my life.

I gradually scanned the room. The lights were dim as usual, and everything was just as I had left them, including the picture of Diane. I went to her and laid my hand on the smooth paper, colorfully painted with my own hand. I closed my eyes to sense her presence near me, but failed to find any.

I knew that this room had given me nothing but solitude and pain, but I wasn't ready to leave the place like this. Yet, I had made the decision and was desperately in need of leaving Uncle Danny and his son on their own.

I gathered all my stuff, along with the paintbrush and her painting, carefully took my parents' photo, and packed my bag to leave. I heard the rats squeaking again as if trying to tell me not to go.

I went downstairs where Uncle Danny was sitting with the beer can in his hand. He looked up at me but said nothing.

"I'm leaving, uncle. And I... I want you to take care of yourself."

As weak as my voice was, so were my legs. I felt exhausted once again, and this time it wasn't by any kind of physical pain, but the emotional torture that I had gone through so far. I felt all the mental pain that I had gone through my entire life, striking up on me all at once. And I was searching for comfort again.

I knew he was not going to ask me where I was going, but I really wanted to talk to him. I wanted him to tell me that he loved me. I wanted him to say that he lied in front of Mr. Anderson.

"Joe."

I turned and saw Jack, my 18-year-old cousin standing before me. In his hand was a baseball bat, and he wore the same sweatshirt he had stolen from me last winter.

I smiled at him, completely aware that he would like to see me leave.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm leaving. You guys take care of yourselves. And..." I looked at my uncle who seemed to pass out due to the heavy consumption of alcohol, "and take care of your dad as well."

"Where are you going to stay?" Now he has started asking me questions like usual, I thought. Jack, being older than me, always used to boss me around just like his father and sometimes even bullied me, too, when I was alone and he was with his friends. But I didn't answer his question this time. Saying, 'God will help me someday and give me a peaceful life,' I left that house that night.

Leaving my childhood behind, I walked through the eerie road with the moon accompanying me, not exactly knowing where I was heading.