FLASHBACK

It was the first time Jill entered Jack's home. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, they were all covered in black, which would have been unbroken except for the posters. The black leather sofa almost camouflaged itself in, and only the table stood out, as it was dark brown.

"Welcome to my dark abode." Jack smiled, turning on a neon blue light.

"Is this where you live?" Jill asked, dumbstruck by the odd vibes of the room. She felt that she had accidentally entered a nightclub instead of someone's house.

"Sort of. I don't like coming home much, so I tried to make it more fun." Jack replied. "I'm coming mom!" he called out to the far end of the room. 'Did his mom allow all this?' Jill wondered.

"Come, meet my mom, she's cool she won't say anything." Jack said, dragging Jill's hand in excitement, and taking her to his mom's room.

Inside, it was a completely different part of the house. Jill's eyes started at the white walls, and the bed was covered with floral print. However, there was one problem.

There was no one else in the room.

"Mom, meet Jill. She's my friend. Mom, stop teasing me." Jack seemed to be talking to thin air.

"Jill, tell mom what do you do. She thinks you are unemployed because you are so thin." Jack said to her.

"Jack, who are you talking to?" Jill asked him, bewildered by Jack's behavior. Was he playing some sort of prank?

"What do you mean? My mom is here, alive and well." Jack said, his face betraying genuine surprise at Jill's words. Jill wondered if he was possessed, or high, or drunk. But he looked alright in his senses.

"Jack, there's no one here." Jill said, looking around the room. She didn't feel that Jack was lying. She once again looked around the white, pristine walls, and her eyes were drawn to a collection of pictures of Jack and his mom on the wall. In one of them he was playing soccer, in another they were at an amusement park. And then she saw one of a gravestone in the cemetery.

Jill walked past Jack to take a closer look at the photo.

"I'll always be there for you. Until the very end." The inscription on it read.

"Jack, is your mom dead?" Jill questioned, turning back to look at his troubled face.

"No, she isn't!" Jack cried out. "That, that thing is fake!" But the doubt echoed in Jack's words.

"Jack, I'm sorry." Jill lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "But, you have to face the truth. Let it go."

"No!" Jack screamed and stormed out of the room. "Jack!" Jill ran after him.

"Jack, wait!" Jill called out after him as he ran into his room and slammed the door shut.

"Go away! You all want her, and me, dead...just go." Jack said. Was the door locked? Jill wondered.

She turned the brass handle of the black wooden door, and went in. Her eyes took a while to adjust to the darkness.

Jack was lying on the bed, with his head in his hands. Jill sat down beside him. She saw that Jack must have been crying, and it was as painful as a cut to her heart. "Jack..." she called to him softly.

"You don't believe me. No one believes me." Jack whispered, almost inaudible.

"I believe in you." Jack turned to look at her, his angelic face burning with anguish.

"I believe your mom is alive." Jill said, her eyes wide open, but blinded by love.

Jack fell into her arms. There are no words needed to express the emotions felt by both of them. Jack felt true peace for the first time in months.

"Thank you." Jack said, looking straight into Jill's eyes.

They both slept together.

Jill woke up to the gentle chime of her phone's alarm. It was a new sound, so it wouldn't be that annoying for a while.

She snoozed the alarm, and looked for Jack, who wasn't there. The door was slightly open, and some light was coming through. Last night's events came into Jill's mind as she checked her phone. There was an email from Jack.

Jill opened it, and the first thing she noticed was that it was a bit long. And sent at 3.42 am.

It read- "Dear Jill,

I'm sorry you had to go through that yesterday. I'd delete that crazy part of me if I could. Therapist's diagnosed me with PTSD, hallucinations and what not, but I don't care. Religious people say that they live for their creator and his glory. And the only creator I see, know and believe in is my mom. And I won't accept her death, ever, perhaps until the very day I die.

But you didn't ask for any of this. And if you don't want to talk about it, or want to leave, I understand. I'd never want to lose you, but I would rather lose you than hurt or distress you in any way.

Love, Jack"

Her eyes moistened at the sweetness of his letter. So much care, love, and affection...

It was then she realized that he was the one.