I opened my eyes—
but I wasn't sure if I had ever closed them.
The room around me…
white.
Blinding.
Buzzing like a broken television.
A bed.
A chair.
A table with a single object:
the coin.
Only this time, it was spinning on its own.
Faster.
Faster.
Until it stopped—
And landed on its edge.
Balancing perfectly.
---
A knock.
I turned my head.
No door.
Just a wall… breathing.
In and out.
Like lungs.
> "He's waking up again."
The voice came from above.
No source.
Just sound dripping from the ceiling like water.
---
I blinked.
Suddenly: fog.
Grass under my feet.
A single tree in the center of a field.
From its branches—
Mirrors.
Each one swinging like wind chimes.
Each one showing a version of me:
Bleeding.
Screaming.
Smiling.
Burning.
And then—
One mirror turned black.
It showed me as a child.
Petra.
The red rocks.
A shadow behind me.
A man's hand.
A knife.
And the coin.
---
> "You picked the wrong door,"
A voice behind me.
Eli.
But different.
Older.
Dead behind the eyes.
> "You were never meant to remember."
---
Nathan stood next to him, holding something:
A rusted dagger with carvings I couldn't read.
My chest burned where the pendant had touched me days ago.
Or was it years?
---
> "You remember Petra, don't you?"
Nathan's voice this time.
Deeper.
Not his own.
> "He gave you silence. And you thanked him for it."
---
The fog thickened.
My feet sank into the ground.
Like the world was swallowing me whole.
---
Suddenly: darkness.
Then fluorescent lights.
A hallway.
Metal.
Cold.
Too clean.
A voice echoed overhead:
> "Room thirty-three, sedative in thirty minutes."
A nurse passed me.
But had no face.
Just hands.
One holding a clipboard.
The other: a flash drive.
---
I looked to my right.
Door marked 33.
I peeked inside—
Me.
Sitting.
In a gown.
Facing a screen.
On it—Fairhill.
But the footage was on fast-forward.
Buildings crumbled.
People screamed.
The sky cracked.
---
I stepped inside.
The door slammed.
The room shrank.
The screen blinked—
Now it showed Eli.
Nathan.
And a third figure—
The man from Petra.
Wearing the same pendant I had.
But his eyes—
Were mine.
---
The lights went out.
A mirror lit up.
I walked to it.
My reflection whispered:
> "My name is Qu...
short for Qussai.
They never say it right anyway."
The glass cracked.
Behind it: Mr. Thorne.
His mouth stitched shut.
But blood dripped from his eyes.
He pointed to the wall—
Where one sentence was carved:
> "THE HILL ISN'T FAIR.
THE FARE IS HELL."
---
Everything faded.
I was in my dorm again.
Sweating.
But the walls weren't right.
They pulsed.
Breathed.
Watched me.
---
On my desk: a key.
Rusty.
Old.
Same carvings as the dagger.
Wrapped in a torn piece of paper.
It read:
> "Unlock the truth.
Or rot in the lie."
---
I fell to my knees.
Clutched my head.
Voices.
So many voices.
All saying the same thing:
> "You were never meant to stay."
---
I looked at the mirror.
And this time, it didn't reflect me.
It showed a hospital room.
Bed.
Straps.
Doctors whispering:
> "He's writing again."
Then:
A close-up of my eyes.
Blank.
Gone.
---
To be continued.