Hidden Evil

Needed (Bradley)

I shot up quickly, gasping and sweating. I had another nightmare about Max. His screaming was so loud that it felt like my eardrums would explode. His neck-snapping echoes in my ears. My hands tangled in my hair in an attempt to get the sounds out of my head. Max's death was my fault. Braxton's current state is my fault. All the events that have happened are my fault. I should've suggested we did something else when Braxton mentioned that stupid house. But I didn't, and look what happened. I tried to calm myself, but my chest felt so tight it seemed impossible.

I heard screams, but it took me a second to realize they were coming from me. I wanted to stop screaming, but this fear had its hold on me, and it wouldn't let go. I felt the force's grip on me again. I remembered the burning feeling it had on me as it threw me around the living room. Braxy screamed as I was dragged to the top floor and dropped. I began scratching at my face and pulling my hair to get the burning feeling off me. My bedroom door opens, and my mother runs in. She quickly ran to me, pulling me into her arms. I unconsciously tried to push her away, the feeling of the ghost throwing me down the stairs still lingering on my skin. Somehow, amongst my struggles, my mother was able to wrap one arm around my back and the other around my head. I felt her begin to rock me back and forth, guiding me to breathe with her.

"Bradley," she says sweetly, "it's okay, it's okay. Breathe with me."

It takes a few moments to calm down, but I remain in my mother's hold once I do. I sniffed harshly before speaking.

"This is all my fault," I cried.

My mother sits me up and holds my shoulders.

"What do you mean, hon?" She says to me.

I explain to her what I'm feeling and how everything is my fault. I sob as she pulls me into her embrace again.

"Oh, Bradley," she says, "it's not your fault. This is no one's fault."

Before I could say anything else, the house phone rang. My mother kissed my head before going to answer the phone. She quickly returned to my bedroom frantically almost five minutes later.

"Bradley," she says, "it was the hospital. They need you there. It's Braxton."

My heart sank. What's happened? Is Braxy okay? So many thoughts ran through my mind as I threw the covers off and put my shoes on. My mom offered to drive me, but I politely declined as I broke into a sprint toward the hospital. I rushed past the front desk and ran toward Braxton's room. As I got closer, I heard screaming. Dr. Wicker was standing outside of the room, and he almost looked relieved as he saw me.

"We need your help," the older man said, "we've tried our best to calm him, but it's not working. Please help us."

I nodded and opened the door. Braxton's room was a disaster. His bedsheets had been thrown off his bed and scattered across the room. The bedside table was on its side, and Braxton threw all his toiletries throughout the room. It looked like a tornado had gone through the room and destroyed everything. Braxton was pacing fearfully around the room, mumbling incoherent sentences. I coughed, and Braxton's head turned towards me.

"Bradley!" Braxton screams as he runs towards me.

He grabs onto my arms and looks at me with wild eyes. I was taken aback, as I wasn't expecting him to run at me so quickly.

"Bradley! I saw him! I saw him!"

I was confused. Who did Braxy see? The only people who've visited him are his parents and me.

"Braxton," I said, "take a deep breath; who did you see?"

"Max," Braxton says, "I saw Max! I saw him! Please believe me!"

I wrapped my panicked friend in a tight embrace as his screams turned into incoherent gibberish. I held him close to me and let him cry loudly into my chest. Eventually, he calmed down and took deep breaths. He removed himself from my embrace and sat on his bed. I grabbed the nearby desk chair and sat in front of Braxton. Dr.Wicker slowly walked in and made his way toward us.

"It's okay, Braxton," the doctor reassured, "we believe you. Can you tell us what Max did or said?"

Braxton took a deep breath before he continued to speak.

"It looked like Max, but the words he spoke weren't things Max would say."

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I swallowed the lump in my throat before continuing.

"What did he say?" I asked, hesitancy prevalent in my voice.

There was a pause, and Braxy fidgeted with trembling fingers before speaking.

"He said everything was my fault. He said it should've been me whose neck snapped. The real Max wouldn't say anything like that, but it LOOKED like the real Max. I don't know what to think anymore."

His voice was shaky and broken. I wish I could take this suffering away from him. My sympathy grew as Braxton wrapped his hands around his head and began crying. I stood up and sat next to him. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. He fell into my embrace and let out the emotions he's most likely been holding back. I continued to let him cry himself out. His cries were pitiful and mournful. I've seen Braxton cry only a handful of times; nowadays, Braxy cried the most anguished sounds I've heard. I looked at his face; it was red and covered in tears and snot. His eyes were swollen from crying and lack of sleep. He's exhausted. He's breaking and getting worse. We're both breaking. Braxton needs me, and I need him. I have to bring an end to this before I lose him too.