Angry Biracial

🚨Chapter Eight-The Questions They Don’t Ask🚨

Jeshiem did not go back into the ballroom immediately.

He stood outside the hallway entrance and watched people pass.

Nobody looked at him.

Nobody followed him.

Nobody asked where he had been.

That should have reassured him.

Instead it left him standing there longer than he meant to.

His conversation with Golden Silk kept replaying in his head.

You still think this is about belief.

It isn’t.

He had expected explanations.

He had expected denial.

Maybe anger.

Instead she had looked almost disappointed.

Like he was asking the wrong questions.

Jeshiem rubbed his face slowly and leaned against the wall.

The footage.

Golden Mulatto.

The retreat.

The messages.

Maybe he had built too much of this in his head.

Maybe Golden Mulatto really was just some disgusting internet personality and the anonymous sender knew exactly how to pull him in.

Maybe the harassment had been random.

Maybe Golden Silk warning him wasn’t protection.

Maybe she thought he was embarrassing himself.

That possibility bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Because if that was true—

then he had dragged Nia into all this over nothing.

He pushed himself off the wall and walked back toward the ballroom.

Inside looked exactly the same.

Golden Halo stood beneath warm lighting.

People listened.

People smiled.

Coffee moved between tables.

The retreat felt calm.

Ordinary.

His absence had disappeared into the room without leaving a mark.

Jeshiem stayed near the back instead of sitting.

He watched.

That was easier.

Golden Mulatto remained in the front row.

Gold shirt.

Glasses.

Sweat.

People kept stopping to speak with him.

And every now and then—

Golden Mulatto looked back.

Not checking.

Not threatening.

Just acknowledging him.

Like seeing somebody else at church.

Jeshiem looked away.

His phone vibrated.

Nia.

You still there?

He typed.

Yeah.

Three dots appeared.

Then:

Please come home.

Jeshiem stared at the message.

Didn’t answer.

His signal disappeared before he decided.

No service.

Only hotel Wi-Fi.

He locked the screen.

Golden Halo continued.

“…belonging becomes dangerous when people believe they have to earn it.”

That sentence landed strangely.

Jeshiem folded his arms.

That wasn’t wrong.

That was becoming the problem.

Almost everything she said started close enough to truth that arguing with it felt stupid.

Questions opened.

A woman stood.

Early twenties.

She looked nervous.

“What do you do when people misunderstand you?”

Golden Halo smiled.

“You stop making your life small enough to fit inside their understanding.”

Applause.

Another question.

A man in a suit stood.

“What happens if people you love don’t understand you?”

Golden Halo nodded thoughtfully.

“You decide whether being understood matters.”

More applause.

Jeshiem found himself studying faces again.

People looked emotional.

People looked relieved.

Nobody looked controlled.

Nobody looked trapped.

That thought irritated him.

Because if this place really was dangerous—

why did nobody look afraid?

Another man stood near the middle.

No badge.

Average looking.

He smiled awkwardly.

“My question is…”

He looked around.

“…what brought everybody here?”

Golden Halo smiled.

“That’s a good question.”

She stepped away from the podium.

“For anybody comfortable answering.”

Hands went up immediately.

One woman smiled.

“My family never talked about identity.”

Another laughed quietly.

“I got tired of explaining myself.”

Another man shrugged.

“I got curious.”

Normal answers.

Nothing alarming.

Then somebody else spoke.

A woman.

Early forties.

Professional.

Calm.

She smiled.

“I missed feeling understood.”

That answer stayed in the room.

Golden Halo nodded softly.

Several people agreed.

One man looked emotional.

Golden Halo smiled.

“I think that’s more common than people admit.”

Jeshiem looked around.

That answer felt different.

Not ideology.

Not anger.

Loneliness.

His phone vibrated.

Unknown sender.

One message.

Ask somebody what they miss.

Jeshiem frowned.

He looked back up.

The woman had already sat down.

Golden Halo resumed speaking.

The room relaxed.

Jeshiem stood there thinking about the message.

Then looked around again.

People laughing.

Talking.

Listening.

And suddenly.

he realized something strange.

Nobody had talked about where they wanted to go.

Nobody talked about the future.

Nobody talked about dreams.

Only things they lost.

Only things they missed.

And for the first time all night.

Jeshiem started wondering if he had misunderstood the retreat completely.

Maybe people weren’t here because they believed in something.

Maybe they were here because they had stopped believing in everything else.

🚨Chapter 6-The Retreat 🚨

Jeshiem almost didn’t go.

That was the truth he would never tell anybody later.

Three times Friday morning he opened the hotel website.

Three times he closed it.

By lunch he had convinced himself the footage was fake.

By dinner he convinced himself Golden Mulatto was probably just another bitter internet loser playing a character.

By nine that night…

he was sitting in his car anyway.

Rain slid across the windshield in slow uneven lines while the engine idled quietly beneath him.

The hotel stood across the parking lot.

Warm lights.

Expensive landscaping.

People moving in and out carrying overnight bags.

Nothing about it looked dangerous.

That bothered him immediately.

The sign outside read:

PRIVATE EVENT

WELCOME GOLDEN SPHERE GUESTS

No symbols.

No strange slogans.

No black robes.

Just normal.

Jeshiem sat gripping the steering wheel.

His phone buzzed.

Nia.

He stared at the screen for a long moment before answering.

“You there?”

He looked out at the hotel.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

Then:

“You’re gonna go in anyway.”

Not a question.

Jeshiem leaned back.

“I’m not staying.”

“You said that before.”

He didn’t answer.

Rain tapped softly against the roof.

Nia finally spoke again.

“Jesh.”

Her voice softened.

“You already know these people don’t like you.”

That hit.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

The livestream.

The silence.

The comments.

The photo.

Everything after she said she was Black.

He swallowed.

“I know.”

Another pause.

Then quietly:

“Then why are you there?”

Jeshiem looked at the hotel entrance.

People laughing.

Checking in.

Talking.

Normal.

Too normal.

“I just wanna see.”

Nia was quiet a long time.

Then:

“Call me when you leave.”

The line disconnected.

Jeshiem sat another minute.

Then got out.

Cold rain hit immediately.

He crossed the parking lot slowly.

Inside smelled like coffee and expensive carpet.

A woman stood near the entrance checking people in.

Young.

Biracial.

Black dress.

Warm smile.

She looked up.

Her smile stayed exactly the same.

“Welcome.”

Jeshiem nodded slightly.

She typed something.

Paused.

Looked at him again.

Then smiled wider.

“Jeshiem.”

His stomach tightened.

He had never introduced himself.

Her fingers moved across the keyboard.

“We’ve been expecting you.”

His chest tightened immediately.

She handed him a visitor badge.

No last name.

Just:

JESHIEM

He stared at it.

“You don’t need registration?”

Her smile stayed fixed.

“No.”

She looked directly into his eyes.

“Golden Halo approved your attendance.”

That landed wrong.

Jeshiem took the badge.

Walked deeper inside.

The conference center was enormous.

Ballrooms.

Coffee stations.

People everywhere.

And all of them…

looked normal.

A biracial family with three children.

Young professionals.

Influencers taking selfies.

Older couples.

Nobody looked like cult members.

That scared him more.

Conversations drifted around him.

“…mixed representation…”

“…identity studies…”

“…future generations…”

Nothing overt.

Nothing obvious.

Just enough.

Then he noticed something.

Every conversation stopped briefly as he passed.

Not fully.

Just enough.

Eyes followed.

Phones lowered.

People whispering.

A man near the coffee station looked directly at him and muttered:

“That’s him.”

Jeshiem kept walking.

Further ahead stood a ballroom.

Soft applause echoed inside.

He moved closer.

Inside sat hundreds of people.

Round tables.

Gold lights.

Projection screens.

On stage stood Golden Halo.

Exactly like the streams.

Perfect smile.

Perfect posture.

She spoke calmly.

“…many people spend their lives trying to fit into spaces that cannot love them.”

Applause.

Jeshiem stayed near the back.

Scanning.

Then he saw him.

Golden Mulatto.

Front row.

Immediate.

Sweat darkened his gold shirt despite the cold ballroom.

Acne scattered across his face.

Patchy beard.

Greasy curls.

His body overflowed slightly around the chair.

He looked exactly like his profile.

Worse.

And people were treating him like somebody important.

Shaking his hand.

Laughing.

Listening.

Golden Mulatto suddenly stopped talking.

Looked up.

Saw Jeshiem.

Their eyes locked.

Golden Mulatto stared.

Then smiled.

Slowly.

Like he had been waiting.

Like this wasn’t surprising.

Golden Mulatto leaned toward somebody beside him.

Whispered.

More heads turned.

Not dramatically.

Subtly.

Like wind moving through grass.

Watching.

Recognizing.

Jeshiem stepped backward.

Then a quiet voice behind him.

“You came.”

Jeshiem turned.

Golden Silk.

Black and gold clothing.

Calm expression.

Hands folded.

Up close she looked almost disappointing.

Not mystical.

Not larger than life.

Just controlled.

She looked at him for a long moment.

Then said softly:

“You shouldn’t have come alone.”

Jeshiem looked back toward the ballroom.

Golden Mulatto was still watching.

Smiling.

Golden Silk followed his gaze.

Then said quietly:

“He talks too much online.”

Jeshiem looked at her.

She met his eyes.

“Be careful what questions you ask tonight.”

Jeshiem frowned.

“What does that mean?”

Golden Silk looked toward the ballroom.

Then back at him.

Her expression changed slightly.

Almost pity.

Then she smiled again.

And walked away.

Jeshiem stood there alone.

Badge hanging from his neck.

People watching.

Golden Mulatto smiling.

And for the first time since finding the Sphere he realized he might not understand what this place actually was at all.