Yasmin's POV
I don't know when the fog started settling over my mind — the way memories slip like sand through my fingers, the way certainty twists into doubt until I'm not sure what's real anymore.
It's like I'm living two lives at once. One where I laugh with Ivy, where things make sense, where I'm safe. And then there's the other — the one Aleah pulls me into. Quiet, tense, full of silences that scream louder than words.
She watches me. Always watching. Not like before, when it felt like a challenge or a dare. Now, it's something else. Like she's waiting for me to break so she can catch the pieces.
I try to tell myself I'm just tired. Stressed. That's all. But even when I'm with Ivy, there's a voice in the back of my mind whispering, Did you really say that? Or did Aleah put those words there?
Last night, I found myself staring at my phone, rereading a text Aleah sent. "Remember when we used to talk for hours and nothing else mattered? I miss that." I don't remember the last time we talked like that. Or maybe I do, but it feels like a dream I can't quite reach.
When I see her at school, there's this pull I can't explain. Part fear. Part hope. Part something darker. I catch myself scanning her face, searching for the girl I used to know — the one I thought I could fix.
But the Aleah in front of me is different. Closed off, cold, like she's carved out a piece of herself and left it bleeding somewhere no one can find.
I'm losing track of who I am, piece by piece.
And every time I try to step away, I hear her voice — soft, insistent — telling me I'm still me. That she's here to help.
But help feels like chains tightening around my chest.
Am I losing my mind? Or is this the only way to keep from losing her?
I don't know anymore.