Chapter 2

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?

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