Eight.

I feel as though I'm going crazy. The nightmares are one thing, but those eyes. They keep popping up in my head, the only vivid memory I can maintain lately. The first few days after I saw those eyes, they were grey, ghostly, empty, sad. It felt like a ghost, penetrating my own eyes. Now, I see them as bright blue eyes, Tommy's eyes. Was I imagining the whole thing? Was there ever a person behind that theater? Was it Tommy? I mean, I know it couldn't have been Tommy, but I swear...it felt like Tommy. It looked like Tommy. But it couldn't... I needed to get out. I walked out of my little cave of a home, and hobbled along the street. My leg was feeling a little better, but it was starting to look infected. I knew I needed to get help, but I didn't want to. I didn't deserve it. This is when it got worse. Everywhere I turned, I saw him. Every single person became him. Spencer became him, and even that guitar player, Pink. They were all him. I was swimming in his ghost, and it was terrifying. I jogged back to my spot, as quickly as I could, given my leg. But even then, I could see him in the windows of those apartments next door. I could hear him laughing, I could feel him drowning. "STOP!" I shouted. I realized where I was. I was laying on the floor, hugging something to my chest. I looked down. In my hands was a picture of Tommy and I, at the park in Detroit, where we had visited Grammy and Gramps. Also in my hand was that damn card with our address on it, well their address. His address. What am I doing? Tommy isn't "haunting" me or whatever I've been worried about. I'm doing this to myself. I took out an old floorboard and began placing everything I had in there, except for one thing. That card. I tucked it into my pocket, put the floorboard back into place, and crawled to my sleeping area. I realized it was only six thirty in the morning, so I forced myself back to sleep. That was the first sleep in while that didn't take me back to that river. Instead, I just laughed with Tommy, happily, free of guilt. He held my hand so firmly that I lost all worries, all fear, all guilt. That was my Tommy. That was what I needed.