I used to believe things happened for a reason.
That good people got good endings. That the world—even in its chaos—had rules. But the Gate taught me something else.
It taught me that reality is thin. And what lies beneath it… doesn't care about reason.
It started small. I stopped sleeping.
Not because I didn't want to—but because every time I closed my eyes, I was back there. Back in front of the Gate. And it wasn't just a memory. It was alive in me. Breathing. Whispering.
Jeremy noticed first.
"You good, man?" he asked one morning, eyebrows raised as he handed me a canned coffee. "You look like you wrestled a demon in your sleep."
I laughed. But it wasn't funny.
Because I had.
Suzuki was quieter these days too. Ever since that day behind the school, she'd started carrying herself differently. She'd always been tough—but now it felt… forced. Like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else.
I didn't tell them about the dreams. About the voices. About the moments when time would slow down, and I'd see things other people didn't.
Like the eyes in the mirror that weren't mine.
Or the way Jeremy's shadow lingered a little too long after he walked away.
I thought I was losing it.
Until I found the journal.
Tucked inside my dad's old suitcase. The one he never let me touch. It wasn't even hidden well—which made it worse. Like he wanted me to find it eventually.
Inside were pages of symbols I'd seen in my dreams. Drawings of the Gate. Warnings. Notes about "truth" and "equivalence" and sacrifices.
And names.
My name.
Jeremy's name.
Suzuki's.
That's when the betrayal hit.
Not a slap. A slow knife. Turning. Deeper with every page.
My father—he knew. He'd known all along. He'd been to the Gate. And he'd left breadcrumbs for me. Like I was some experiment. Some pawn in a game I didn't even know I was playing.
That night, I sat in my room, the journal open in front of me, my hands trembling. I could feel the rage crawling up my throat like bile. And then… nothing.
No tears.
Just cold.
Pure. Detached. Cold.
A part of me shattered.
Another part took its place.
I began to understand things. Horrible things. Like how easy it would be to lie. To manipulate. To make people believe what I wanted them to believe. Like how fragile people really are when you know what buttons to push.
I didn't want to. I didn't.
But I started anyway.
Small things. A conversation here. A white lie there. Just to test it. To feel the weight of power between my fingers. It felt... intoxicating.
And terrifying.
Because another part of me still wanted to protect Jeremy. To help Suzuki. To be the kind of person my mom might've been proud of.
But that part was drowning. Fast.
And the Gate… it was waiting. Watching. Always watching.