After Halastaesia

PART I

Chapter 1

I didn’t particularly enjoy the sticky feeling of the leathery couch on my skin, even if it was just on my arms. The smell was probably comforting to most people, but it reminded me of my grandparents’ house from when I’d been young—cold and distant. Suffice to say, it wasn’t exactly putting me at ease.

Still, Mom was right. I needed to talk about it with someone. I’d wanted that person to be her, or at least Harvey or Jack, but all of them only sighed whenever I brought up the subject.

Look, man, Jack had said. You’ve been through something really traumatic or whatever. But, like, you gotta see someone about this. It’s not healthy.

Mom had agreed.

So I’d come to this stranger’s office to talk about my experience, my adventure, my fight.

Now all I could think about was how I wanted to go back. Back to see Tara again, to joke around with Ronan, and to argue with Phillip. I still saw them sometimes, in my dreams, but that was different. It wasn’t real. Then again, no one else believed they’d ever been real to begin with.

So, Benjamin, the woman in the chair said, brushing a stray strand of her black hair out of her face.

Just Ben is fine, I interrupted, hands kneading my jeans.

She nodded, adjusting her red-rimmed glasses. Ben. Your mother has touched on a few points over the phone, but I’d like to hear it come from you. What is it that’s bothering you?

I glanced at her, in her black pencil skirt and pristine white blouse. I hadn’t expected her to ask such a forward question. Was that normal? Since it was my first time seeing a therapist, I was severely lacking in reference points.

I’m having trouble adjusting to being back, I said. I was away for a little while, but now I’m back and it’s ... hard.

She scribbled some notes onto her little pad, and I surreptitiously glanced around the room. Overall, it gave me the distinct feeling of a living room, but more so a display living room than the kind people actually used. The table had no rings from glasses being put down without coasters, and an empty vase with a floral pattern occupied some space on the shelf flanked by books. A basket of squishy, brightly colored toys beside the beige leather couch drew my eye, and I wondered if I was meant to take one of them. To me, they looked like chew toys for a dog.

My gaze returned to my new psychiatrist. A diploma on the wall identified her as Dr. Marilyn Steinberg. Based on her name, I wondered if she had German heritage. Would she try to explain everything away using Freud somehow? That seemed to be a common trend, if media was to be believed.

And where is it you were?

I gulped at her question. I hated this part. Still, it was best to just come right out and say it. After all, she couldn’t help me if I didn’t talk about what had happened. I was saving another world.

What was this world exactly? Can you describe it?

I hesitated. How did you sum up an entire world? It wasn’t like I’d gotten to see it all. I’d only traveled through a fraction of it, to gather allies and the magical artifacts to defeat the Corrupted Ones.

It was a world of magic, I said. Magic that comes from nature. So most of it was covered in trees, and lakes, and an ocean and mountains. Kind of like Earth, but wilder, and with less people. There were other races, too. Elves, and trolls, and dragons. My girlfriend, Tara, she’s fae and ... I trailed off.

Thinking of Tara hurt. I might never see her again, and after everything we’d been through ... it wasn’t easy to accept. I’d tried to figure out how to get back there, and I’d come up empty. But that was why I was here, wasn’t it? To learn to accept that my life there was over.

I see, Dr. Steinberg said. And how did you get to this world?

My fingers fidgeting, I bit the inside of my cheek. This was the bit that everyone always put so much emphasis on, wasn’t it? The part that made everyone say that it was all just a dream.

There was an accident. Pausing, I twisted my head to watch her watching me. Her expression was one of keen listening and she waited patiently for me to continue. I turned my head back to look at an abstract painting hanging on the wall. I was half certain that it was a Picasso print. I was cycling to my friend’s house after school, near the fairgrounds at the edge of town, but there was ice on the road. There was a truck and neither of us could brake properly. I got hit, and fell into a coma.

These were the facts. I remembered getting hit by the truck, but it had happened so fast, I’d never even felt the impact. I’d seen it racing toward me, and the next thing I’d known, I’d woken up in a field of wildflowers, with two imps running toward me yelling something about the Chosen Hero having finally arrived.

I gulped, waiting for what Dr. Steinberg would say.

What you’re saying is that the act of falling into a coma transported you into this other world?

I nodded and shrugged at the same time. Putting it that way didn’t feel entirely right, but it certainly wasn’t entirely wrong, either. It wasn’t like I had any other theories.

"And how did you manage to return to this world?"

It wasn’t by choice, I blurted out. Taking a deep breath, I counted to five before continuing more calmly. The silver-banded mages decided that, as an outsider, I could not be allowed to remain in Halastaesia, so they thanked me for my service and cast a spell to send me home. That’s when I woke up in the hospital.

Some more scribbling. Even though I wasn’t watching, I could hear the scratching as the pen danced across the paper. I waited for the next question, certain I wouldn’t like it.

How much time did you spend in ... Halstisia, was it?

Halastaesia, I corrected her. I was there for twelve months, nine days, and twelve hours.

And how long were you in a coma?

I’d been right. I didn’t like the question.

Three months, two days, and nine hours, I recited. Give or take a few minutes.

More scribbling.

Why did you not want to come home?

Are you kidding me? I threw my hands up in the air. "Everything was perfect ... the bad guys were defeated, I was a hero, and everyone loved me. I had the coolest friends in the world that I’d gone through hell with, and I even got the girl. It’s everything I ever wanted! And then it was taken from me."

I’d almost started yelling.

The sound of furious scribbling made me sink back into myself.

Tell me about your relationships with the people in your life on Earth. Let’s start with your mother.

Didn’t I freaking know it?

Mom glanced at me sideways. Even without looking back at her, I knew that she was giving me that sympathetic smile. She knew this was hard for me, but she didn’t understand why. Couldn’t understand why. No one on this damned planet could know what I was going through.

How was it? she asked.

I shrugged, resting my chin in my hand as I stared out of the car’s side window. Fine.

Truthfully, I felt like I’d been forcing myself to remember all the painful parts of being back, and I didn’t really see how therapy could help me.

Mom reached out to me and stroked my cheek. Honey, it’ll get easier. I promise. You just have to give it some time. You’re back in school next week, won’t that be something?

School. It seemed so trivial compared to everything I’d gone through. I’d fought literal monsters in life-or-death battles, had outwitted a millennia-old tree, and tamed a Lovecraftian creature from the deepest crevices of Halastaesia. But yes. In this world I still had to go to school.

Sure.

Sighing sadly, she turned on the car.

I really was sorry to give her pain, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t sometimes missed her when I’d been in Halastaesia, but I’d felt like I belonged there. I’d been special.

She didn’t understand what it felt like, going from being truly exceptional to being a nobody—just another kid in high school. Their problems seemed so trivial to me, so juvenile. Teenagers complaining about homework? Give me a break. Try battling a cyclops with nothing but a dagger, and then we’ll see which you’d prefer.

And it was because Mom couldn’t understand that I couldn’t open up to her anymore. I’d tried. I’d seen the pitying look she’d given me. The doctors had explained that coma dreams can sometimes feel just as real as reality, and that it might take a while for me to figure out the difference between dream and real life.

Except, based on the things I’d read on the internet, the way that usually worked was that a person would start second guessing whether they were even awake, or whether they were still in the dream. That wasn’t the case for me. I knew that I was awake, that this was real. What made me so miserable was that I knew my time Halastaesia had been real, too.

Mom parked the car in our driveway, and I headed straight to my room.

Dinner’ll be ready soon! she yelled after me.

’Kay.

I’d join her for the meal, if only to keep her from eating alone, but I hadn’t had any appetite since coming back. Sure, the scratchiness of my throat the first few days hadn’t helped, but even after it healed, I’d had to force myself to eat.

After stalking through the scattered clothes on my bedroom floor, I went to my bedside table and pulled open the top drawer. The ring on the chain was still there.

Any time I started doubting for even a second if my memories were real, I just needed to look at it, to feel it. I sighed in relief as I put it back around my neck, where it belonged. Tara had given it to me.

It was the only tangible proof I had left of my time in Halastaesia, and it had still been in my hand when I’d awoken in the hospital room. Mom thought that someone visiting must have left it for me, probably another get-well gift, like the fruit baskets and the flower arrangements, but I knew the truth. After all, the inscription on the inside in Tara’s language was still there—I love you.

Though I supposed to anyone else it just looked like another weird squiggle.

Deciding to let out some of my pent-up frustration, I climbed down into the basement, put on my noise-canceling ear protectors, and worked away on my drum set. I really went to town on them, striking every drum with just the right amount of force, keeping rhythm, but slowly going faster and faster, until my ears could barely distinguish the sounds anymore.

By the time I was done, I was panting, and my ears were ringing despite the mufflers, but I felt better. Well enough to even bless my Mom with some smiles while we were having dinner and chatting away.

I was grateful she didn’t try to bring up the therapy session again. Instead, she focused on my return to school. It was nearing the end of March now, my accident having taken place at the start of December. There were only three months of school left, but she was hoping that was enough time for me to catch up with my studies, if I was up for it, so I could advance into the next year along with the rest of my peers.

I couldn’t care less.

But it mattered to her, so I nodded and smiled, saying I would do my best.

Mr. Smith had already sent over my timetable for this semester, so I was able to prepare just fine.

Hun, what would you like for dinner tomorrow? Mom asked as she cleared the table.

A stew might be nice, I said, and a flash of joy crossed her face. I wasn’t entirely surprised. That may have been the first time I actually requested a dish since coming back. The truth was, I missed stews. I’d eaten a lot of them in Halastaesia, and while it wasn’t going to be similar in any shape or form, it was as close to something from there as I could get here.

I’ll make sure it’s the best stew you’ve ever had, Mom promised.

I forced a smile, knowing that even with all her prowess in the kitchen, that was a promise she couldn’t keep.

I helped her with the dishes, something I used to avoid like the plague. When I was done, I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, something that I also never used to do and would be teased about if anyone my age in this world saw. But hey, life-changing adventures in a different world can have that effect on a guy. It was my way of apologizing for making her worry. And I knew she’d worried a lot ... still did. And my sulkiness certainly wasn’t helping.

My awareness of my behavior didn’t make it any easier to shake off, though. I was miserable, it was bound to shine through. However, it wasn’t her fault, though admittedly, I sometimes forgot. She was my mom after all.

Well, this was my life again. I’d have to learn to live with it.

Chapter 2

The day I returned to school came sooner than expected. Harvey picked me up a little earlier than he would have normally, because he figured it would be good for me to escape the rush.

Dude, what are you wearing? He snorted when I climbed into his beat-up, second-hand Volvo.

I looked down on myself. Non-descript T-shirt, jeans, sneakers. It had been warm for the past week, so I hadn’t even bothered with my letterman jacket. Clothes.

Take away the gold chains around Harvey’s neck and the baseball cap, and our outfits weren’t that different once he removed his oversized hoodie.

Exasperated, he shook his head, but started to drive at least. I knew what he meant. Not that long ago I would’ve dressed differently. But now, after everything I’d gone through, simple just seemed easiest. I had no reason to try to stand out, to make my mark in high school, of all places. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend anymore, and I didn’t really care if the kids at the top of the high school food chain approved of me. I knew what was important to me. The opinion of someone overly full of themself sure as hell wasn’t it.

Mitchell’s Creek, Pennsylvania. Not a big place by any standard, but at least we had a high school. Go us. School colors: purple and yellow. In other words, a complete and utter eye sore.

Walking up to the main building felt weird. Familiar on one hand, but also like the last time had been about a million years ago. It felt like I had outgrown this place. Truthfully, it did make me somewhat curious. What had changed? What was still the same? Rationally, I knew that changes would be minimal. I’d been out for four months, not four years, after all. And yet, the feeling remained.

I found my locker quickly, but I struggled to remember my combination. I’d never bothered to change it from the school’s setting, because it had seemed like more of a hassle at the time, but now it left me staring at the lock with a frown.

Seven-four-three-nine, Harvey said, and I set the lock. Your folks had them open the lock in case there was something important in there.

I didn’t see what Mom could possibly have expected to find in my locker, but hey, it worked out for the best, so I didn’t overly mind. I still wouldn’t bother changing the combination. It wasn’t like I kept anything worth stealing in there, and I’d never been bullied.

Pushing aside my gym bag—yeah, that was going to be washed tonight—I grabbed my algebra and world history books, replacing them with the lunch Mom packed for me.

You got Algebra first, too? Harvey asked. It’s in the new building. Mrs. Hammond teaches it now.

I grimaced at the sound of it. I remembered that teacher well from last year. Mrs. Hammond was a very tall and friendly lady with good intentions in becoming a teacher but was completely and utterly unsuited for the profession. She couldn’t deal with conflict, had a weak voice, was prone to crying, and honestly, wasn’t all that good at math.

Well, classes awaited.

I moved to follow Harvey when a call made me stop and look around.

Ben!

A girl I’d seen in some of my classes last year (or four months ago) came running up to me. She was wearing a cheerleader’s uniform, her blonde hair in pigtails with purple ribbons tied around them.

I heard you’d be back to school today, she said and gave me a broad smile. Her blue eyes practically sparkled at me. I’m so glad you’re feeling better again.

While she was talking, I was still struggling to remember her name. I knew we’d spoken at some point, but I couldn’t remember the particulars of that either. It had been a while. For me, at least.

You know, a few of us were gonna go to the mall later, some guys, too. Would you like to come?

Sure, I said. Mind if I bring Harvey?

He’d never forgive me if I didn’t.

She beamed at me and nodded vehemently before running—or jumping? It was really difficult to tell with cheerleaders—off to go to whatever school activity she had lined up now. I turned to look for Harvey, but apparently, he hadn’t noticed me stopping, because he was gone. Cursing under my