The Sammy Kelly Story. The Invisible Man, #18

Sometimes I can't remember what he looked like. Before my mom died. He seemed stronger back then. Taller. It's like when my mom died something inside my father caved in. Waking up, I can hear my old man downstairs. He's been up for hours. Don't think that he ever sleeps. Wanders around the house like a ghost, mumbling. Sitting in the garden in a chair staring at his roses, talking to no one. Talking to the emptiness.
Talking to mom. Living in his own world. Living in yesterday. Limbo. Broken. Drifting from one day to the next. In and out of the hours. Sometimes he looks happy. When I come home from school, I walk into the living room and sometimes find him sitting on the couch where I'd left him earlier that day. No television on. No music. Just sitting there. Sometimes he looks like he's dead. The last book in The Invisible Man series.
A young boy is dealing with his mother's death, and a father who hasn't come to grips with his own grief. And a girl who doesn't see him. And in the background, a serial killer who is stalking her.