The Dead Boy's Guide To Second Chances

6. stay, illusion!

TWO MONTHS AND TWENTY-ONE DAYS AFTER THE DEATH OF OLIVER SALLOW

Finn O'Connell.

In present day, the sound of Oliver's voice plays on repeat in Finn's mind for the entirety of his classes.

He's almost certain he hallucinated the entire thing. He... he has to have hallucinated it. There are no literal hauntings. There are no spirits. There are only memories and the strange ways they manifest in the mind.

(Although, Finn has to admit, if there was one soul stubborn enough to continue wandering the earth, it would be Oliver Sallow.)

(Stay, illusion! the miniature Ollie inside him quotes wistfully. Finn picks him up by the scruff of his neck and stuffs him back into the depths of his memory where he belongs.)

Maybe he can ask Samira if hallucinations are a side effect of the exercise she told him to practice. A few weeks ago, they tried something called interoceptive exposure during one of his therapy sessions. It basically means performing activities that provoke the feelings he associates with an oncoming panic attack—like nausea, dizziness, and shortness of breath.

During their very first appointment, she drew up a model to visualize the vicious cycle that feeds his panic disorder. Often, when he notices changes in his body sensations, his brain jumps to the conclusion that they're a sign he's going to have a panic attack, which then leads to more panic symptoms that in turn make him even more anxious. Through getting used to these feelings, he's supposed to learn to not immediately label them as something dangerous but as momentary sensations that will pass.

It made a lot of sense when she explained it to him, and he supposes it's helped. His number of panic attacks per week has gotten way less, to the point that he's almost gone a whole fourteen days without one.

That was, of course, until he opened his eyes to find his dead ex-boyfriend hovering in the doorway to his room.

"Finn?" he looks up with a start when he hears his name. Samira is leaning out the door of her office, a smile on her face as she watches him rush to gather his bags and cross the small waiting room. "Come on in."

He shuffles past her into the office. It's cozier than he thought it would be when he first came here. Somehow, he expected it to be cool and clinical, harsh lights and a stiff couch to sit on. Instead, it's something that could pass for a living room. The walls are painted a dark green, barely visible behind the rows of bookshelves; the couch is worn leather with a mountain of pillows and a comfortable throw blanket; the coffee table almost always holds a bowl of snacks.

In one corner, there's a chest with board games and a table for playing with kinetic sand for Samira's younger patients. The tall windows open up into the lush green of a small garden where they sometimes sit on an old wooden bench and listen to the birds when Finn doesn't feel like talking just yet.

"How was school today?" Samira inquires as she settles into the armchair opposite Finn. Today, she's wearing a dark red turtleneck that matches her hijab. She always colour-coordinates.

"Fine," he says.

He knows what she's going to say even before she opens her mouth. "Descriptive words, please?"

"It was okay." He reaches for one of the fidget toys on the coffee table. "I had to do a presentation. I was nervous, at first, but I didn't panic. The rest was just the usual."

"That sounds great! Have you gotten a mark for your presentation yet?"

"I got a B+."

"Not bad," she acknowledges. Finn can't help but preen. When Samira praises him, she always sounds genuinely thrilled. There's something easy about talking to her—much easier than it is with his mum or Coach Wiley. He thinks it's because she has no expectations he needs to fulfill. Or at least, none that he can noticeably feel. "A-Levels are coming up, right?"