"THUD."

My hands trembled. My legs shook beneath me as I slowly stepped toward the bloodbath before my eyes.

"This isn't my house... no... where am I?" I thought, frantically scanning the unfamiliar room.

My lips quivered, but my voice refused to obey. I reached for my phone, only to find it lying on the floor, completely shattered.

A window caught my attention.

Without thinking twice, I climbed onto the sill and jumped. Luckily, it was only the first floor. Pain shot through my legs as I landed, but the surge of adrenaline kept me moving.

As I staggered away, a thought slammed into my mind.

What if someone comes? What if they find something that connects me to this place?

It was the middle of the night. Every light was off, and darkness stretched around me like an endless abyss.

Should I call the police?

But will they believe me?

The question echoed in my head, followed by another voice—quiet, almost like a whisper.

"No. Remove every trace first."

Before I realized what I was doing, I turned around and ran back.

The front door stood open.

Was it open before?

I couldn't remember.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I rushed into the bathroom, grabbed whatever cleaning supplies I could find, and began wiping away every stain I could see. My hands moved on instinct while my mind spiraled into chaos.

How did I end up here?

What happened?

Whose blood is this?

Did anyone see me?

The questions came one after another, but no answers followed.

I quietly pulled the door shut—not completely, just enough that it wouldn't arouse suspicion if anyone happened to pass by.

Then I walked away.

Slowly.

Calmly.

As if everything was perfectly normal.

While cleaning the room, I noticed something strange. I only had my phone with me. No wallet. No purse. No keys. Nothing. It was as if I had stepped out for a short walk to meet someone and never expected to be gone for long.

But my mind...

It was empty.

A blank canvas, with only my desperate assumptions painting possibilities across it.

I had no money and no way to contact anyone.

I avoided the main road, slipping instead through narrow, dark alleys. Every shadow made my heart race, but nothing in that darkness frightened me more than what I had already seen tonight.

After what felt like hours, I spotted a gas station glowing beneath flickering fluorescent lights.

Relief washed over me.

I hurried inside and asked the cashier if I could borrow a phone. After a hesitant glance, he handed it to me.

With trembling fingers, I dialed the only number I could remember by heart.

The call connected.

"Jeane... it's me." My voice cracked. "Please... I need your help. Can you come get me?"

There was silence.

Then—

"Sam... is that really you?"

Her voice was shaking.

"Where are you? Where have you been?"

"I... I don't know."

"It's been six freaking months!" she shouted. "Six months, Sam! Where the hell have you been?"

The words hit me harder than the fall from the window.

Six months?

No...

That couldn't be right.

Just yesterday, we had been sitting together at Allen's Café, laughing over burnt coffee and stale fries.

Yesterday.

...Wasn't it?

My thoughts froze.

What was she talking about?

Before I could make sense of anything, my eyes slowly drifted shut, and I collapsed onto the floor.

My vision blurred. The last things I remember were Jeane's panicked voice echoing through the phone and the cashier desperately trying to wake me.

Then...

Nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed, dressed in one of those rough, oversized gowns. The room smelled of antiseptic.

Jeane sat beside me.

Her eyes were swollen and red, as if she hadn't stopped crying for days.

I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to ask how I had ended up here. I wanted to know what she meant when she said I had been gone for six months.

But my body felt unbearably heavy.

Before I could speak a single word, sleep pulled me under once more.

The next time I woke up, sunlight streamed through the window.

Jeane looked up.

For a moment, she simply stared at me.

Then she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me.

I felt warm tears soak into my hospital gown.

"I missed you, stupid," she whispered through broken sobs. "I thought... I thought I'd never see you again. I was so scared."

I hugged her back as tightly as my weak body allowed, silently promising that I wasn't going anywhere.

She pulled away just enough to glare at me.

"You know you've been asleep for three days already?"

I blinked.

Three days.

Oddly enough, that no longer shocked me.

After everything that had happened, another missing stretch of time almost felt... normal.

I slowly sat up.

"Jeane," I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, "weren't we together just four days ago? How has it been six months already?"

She frowned.

"Sam... what are you talking about?"

"We were at Allen's Café. We were laughing about your horrible coffee order."

Her expression fell.

"No," she said quietly. "That was seven months ago."

A knot tightened in my stomach.

"The last time I heard from you..." She hesitated, as though afraid to continue.

"The last thing you ever said before you disappeared was…”

Jeane took a slow breath before speaking.

"The last thing you said to me was..."

She swallowed hard, as if repeating those words still frightened her.

"No. Don't say a word. Just know that things are about to change. The ghosts of the past have come to devour us. I just want you to know that no matter what happens next... don't say a word to anyone."

She paused.

"Promise me... you won't tell anyone."

"Then the call ended."

Silence settled between us.

Jeane looked down at her hands.

"I thought you were joking," she whispered. "I thought it was another one of your dramatic stories."

A faint, bitter smile crossed her face before disappearing.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't realize something was actually wrong until you vanished."

She wiped her eyes.

"But don't worry. No one knows about that call."

"My family..." I asked. "Do they know?"

She shook her head.

"I told them you'd gone on one of your adventures. That you'd contact them whenever you were ready."

I let out a quiet sigh.

That sounded believable.

I'd always been a wanderer. My mother used to

joke that I was a vagabond. And being a writer who had already published a novel, disappearing for inspiration wasn't exactly out of character.

Or at least...

That's what everyone believed.

Jeane nudged my shoulder.

"Now will you please tell me what all of that meant?" she asked. "I've been waiting seven months for an answer."

I opened my mouth.

Then closed it again.

What was I supposed to tell her?

That I couldn't remember saying any of those words?

That they didn't even sound like me?

That, to me, only four days had passed?

That my memories ended seven months ago?

The words refused to leave my mouth.

Then another thought surfaced.

The blood.

The shattered phone.

The unfamiliar house.

The bloodbath.

My heartbeat quickened.

If I had truly been missing for seven months...

Then whose blood had I seen?

And why did it feel as though that nightmare had happened only a few hours ago?

Jeane noticed the uneasiness on my face.

She had always been able to read me. Maybe it was because we'd known each other for so long, or maybe she was simply the most perceptive person I'd ever met.

Without saying another word, she reached for my hand and gently squeezed it.

"It's okay, Sam," she whispered. "If you can't tell me anything right now, that's okay. I'll wait—as long as it takes."

She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Just promise me one thing."

I looked at her.

"Don't disappear again."

She let out a small, nervous chuckle.

My vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes.

For the first time since waking up, I laughed.

A real laugh.

The kind that comes after carrying too much pain for too long.

In that single moment, the fear, the confusion, and the anxiety faded into the background. They weren't gone—but they no longer felt unbearable.

The door clicked open.

A nurse walked in, checked the monitor, and quietly replaced the IV drip.

Neither of us spoke.

When she finished, Jeane stood up.

"I'll be right outside," she said with a gentle smile.

I nodded.

As the room fell silent once more, exhaustion slowly pulled me back into sleep.

What... am I looking at?

Why am I seeing... myself?

Is this a dream?

Or is this real?

Before I could make sense of it—

CRASH!

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room.

Instinctively, I threw my hands over my head.

A shadow climbed through the broken window.

I couldn't make out the person's face. The darkness swallowed every feature, leaving behind nothing but a silhouette.

The figure slowly straightened and smirked.

"It's been a long time..."

A pause.

"...Teacher."

The other me staggered back, trembling violently.

"What have you done?" they shouted. "Do you even understand what you've done?"

The stranger let out a quiet laugh.

"I haven't done anything wrong," they said, their smile growing even more unsettling. "I've only returned everything... to the way it was."

My eyes flew open.

I gasped for air, each breath sharper than the last. My chest tightened as if someone were squeezing the life out of me.

It was only a dream.

Wasn't it?

Still trembling, I reached for the glass of water beside my bed.

My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

The glass slipped from my fingers.

THUD!

It shattered across the hospital floor.

The sound brought a nurse rushing into the room.

"Sam!"

Her face turned pale as she saw me.

She immediately called for the doctor.

I couldn't stop moving. My body shook uncontrollably as I struggled to breathe.

Words poured from my mouth, but they came out as broken whispers—so jumbled that not even I understood what I was saying.

The nurse grabbed my shoulders, trying to steady me.

"It's okay. You're safe. Just breathe."

Moments later, the doctor hurried in.

I felt the sharp sting of a needle in my arm.

The room began to blur.

The voices around me grew distant.

And once again...

Darkness claimed me.