Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

Nelson nodded toward the sconces on the wall. “Shorted out that light
bulb. Broke the glass. Took me a long time to work up that amount of
energy.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Wallace admitted. “I wasn’t—I was angry.”
“So I noticed.” His brow furrowed again. “Best you avoid anger if at all
possible. It can cause all manner of situations better left avoided.”
Wallace closed his eyes. “I have a feeling that’s easier said than done.”
“It is,” Nelson said. “But you’ll get there. At least you will if you don’t
decide to go through that door.”
Wallace’s eyes snapped open. “I don’t want to—”
Nelson held up his hands. “You’ll know when the time is right. I will say
it’s nice to have someone to talk to so late at night. Helps pass the time.”
“Years,” Wallace said. “You said you’d been dead a few years.”
“That’s right.”
Wallace’s stomach twisted strangely. It wasn’t unlike the hook in his chest,
though it burned more. “You’ve been here every night by yourself?”
“Most nights,” Nelson corrected gently. “Every now and then, someone
like you comes along, though they don’t tend to stay very long. It’s
transitionary. One foot in one world, and the other in the next.”
Wallace turned toward the fire. It was almost out. “I don’t want to talk
about it anymore.”
“Ah,” Nelson said. “Of course not. What would you like to talk about?”
But Wallace didn’t reply. He lay down on the floor and curled in on
himself, arms wrapped around his chest, knees against his stomach. The hook
in his chest vibrated, and he hated it. He closed his eyes and wished he could
go back in time when everything made sense. It hurt more than he expected.
“Okay,” Nelson said quietly. “We can do this too. Take all the time you
need, Wallace. We’ll be here when you’re ready. Isn’t that right, Apollo?”
Apollo woofed, tail thumping silently on the floor.