Smartmouthed

Oleander scrunched his face as Bas tapped his chin.
"Maybe so, unruly patients come with the job I guess." He sighed before he went on about his father.

He was about to place a coat in the cart when his blood ran cold. He stood frozen staring at the contents of the cart as Bas forgot who Ollie's mother was. It was beginning to be a familiar feeling. A sharp validation to an inner knowing he ignored until every instance that proves that feeling right slapped him in the face.

"I know." he said with a solemn finality, before Bas realized what he had said and started to back pedal.
"I know she's not coming back." If Bas could see the boys eyes, they were vacant and staring.
"None of them are." He knew the moment she said her plan aloud. He knew who she would be taking before they did, he knew. The grave had a lot to show him before he faught death and won. He could still be wrong. He hoped he was. He didn't want to be right. But he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that he would always know.

"I'm saying my Dad might be next if we don't do something. He's not himself, and this grief might kill him." He turned to Bas. His stare still partially vacant as he tried to claw himself back to the present.

It was the first time he had ever opened up about that realm. He mostly hoped that if he didn't talk about it, it would remain just his imagination.

"Speech"