When I opened my eyes, I wasn't underwater. I wasn't in the dark, twisted reflection of the world I'd been dragged into.
I was lying in a bed. A real one. Sheets. Blankets. The low hum of fluorescent lights overhead. The sterile scent of antiseptic in the air. Beeping monitors.
A hospital.
I saw them.
My mom. Sitting at my side, her face buried in trembling hands, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. My dad stood just behind her, stiff, like he'd forgotten how to move. His eyes were red. He was biting his lip, trying so hard not to fall apart.
"Mom…? Dad…?" My voice came out hoarse, like it had rusted from disuse.
Mom gasped and looked up, eyes wide with disbelief. "Ethan?" she whispered. Then louder. "Ethan!" She threw her arms around me, sobbing harder. My dad stepped forward, finally letting the tears fall as he pressed his hand against my forehead like he needed to feel it to believe I was real.
"You're awake… You're really here…"
I didn't understand.
"I… what happened?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
They exchanged a look. Then Mom said, voice quaking, "You've been gone, Ethan. Two years. You disappeared without a trace. And then, out of nowhere, the police found you in a forest last night. Just lying there."
Two years?
My head spun. It didn't feel like two years. It felt like… days. Maybe a week at most. But I said nothing. Not yet.
I sat up slowly. That's when I noticed it.
My eye. The one I'd lost. It was there. Whole. Perfect. Like nothing had ever happened.
And my stomach, where that huge hole was, it was smooth skin. No wound. No scar. Like none of it had ever happened. But it had. God, it had.
Still, I forced a weak smile. "I… don't remember anything," I said, lying through my teeth. "It's all a blur."
They nodded, relieved. Maybe even grateful. Because the truth? The truth would've shattered them. So I kept it locked away.
Everything.
All of it.
Because some stories… aren't meant to be told.
Because I knew it was all real. Every last second of it.
I could still feel it in my bones. In my blood. The strength humming just beneath my skin, sharper. The clarity in my ears, too clear. I could hear the doctors talking down the hall, the shuffle of a nurse's shoes across tile, a patient muttering through gritted teeth three rooms over.
All of it. Every sound. No one else reacted. Just me. And yet, I said nothing. Because how do you explain that you spent years—real years—in something that wasn't quite hell, but sure as hell wasn't Earth? That you were dragged into a nightmare and clawed your way back out with scars no one could see?
They'd never believe me. They'd lock me up, drug me, file me under delusion. So I swallowed it. All of it. I smiled. I nodded. I let them believe the version that made them feel safe. The version where their missing son came back with no memory.
Because the truth? The truth would ruin them. And besides…I wasn't even sure I came back the same.
I forced a smile, trying to make the room feel a little less like it was built out of glass and held-together emotions."Mom, Dad… so, uh… what's new? What did I miss while I was off being a missing person?" I chuckled awkwardly. "Can I still go back to school, or am I too old and mysterious now?"
They both laughed, relief washing over their faces like it was the first real breath they'd taken in years.
Mom wiped her eyes and nodded. "Of course you can, honey. Though technically, you're eighteen now. You missed a few birthdays."
Dad smiled, his voice soft. "The school's already been contacted. They'll figure something out when you're ready."
I laughed along with them—just enough to sell it. But inside, I felt it again. That hum. That not-rightness curled beneath my skin.
Eighteen. Two years gone. The world had moved on, but I hadn't.
And as much as I tried to pretend I was back… Part of me never left.
I leaned back against the pillows, the sheets rustling quietly beneath me. I glanced between my parents, trying to sound casual, like a regular teenager waking up from a coma and not a two-year nightmare in ghostland.
"So… can I leave the hospital now? What did the doctors say?"My voice came out a little too smooth, a little too practiced.
Dad rubbed the back of his neck. "They're… baffled, honestly. You should be dehydrated, starved, half-dead. But your vitals are strong. No signs of trauma. Not a scratch on you."
Mom added, voice still thick with disbelief, "They ran every test they could. Bloodwork, brain scans, even genetic panels. Nothing's wrong. It's like you just… took a nap."
I gave a soft laugh. "Best two-year nap ever, huh?"
Mom didn't laugh that time. Neither did Dad.
"The doctors want to keep you for one more night," Dad said finally. "Just to be safe. Observation, you know. But if all goes well, you'll be discharged tomorrow."
Tomorrow. One more night. I nodded, keeping the smile frozen on my face.
.....
The hallway outside my room murmured with voices—my dad speaking quietly to a doctor, serious tones muffled through the door. Mom had stepped out to grab some food, probably something warm and safe-smelling, like soup. Something that said everything's okay now, honey.
But I knew better.
The lights in my room flickered once. Just once. Then held steady.
The air changed—soft and cold at first, like breath on the back of my neck. Then warm, curling around me like silk sheets soaked in secrets.
I didn't flinch. Not this time.
A pair of arms slipped around me from behind, gentle and familiar.
Her voice purred near my ear, honey-sweet and full of teeth.
"Miss me?"
I stared straight ahead, pulse steady. "So…" I murmured, "ready to tell me what the fuck you are?"
She giggled—light, musical, mocking."Oh, is that how you speak to your mother~?"
Her chin rested on my shoulder. I could feel her smile. It felt too wide.
"Mother?" I scoffed quietly. "You dragged me into that hellish world. I almost died."
She sighed like I'd just said something adorable. "Discipline," she murmured, voice syrupy and smug. "All mothers have their ways."
I didn't answer.
Just sat there—still, breathing slow, heart ticking in my chest like a silent countdown. Because even though every instinct screamed run, another part of me… didn't mind the warmth. Didn't mind her.
"Just tell me, who are you? Why me? What was that world? What's that black smoke that slips into my body every time I kill one of those monsters? Why did you drag me into that nightmare, and then save me?" I demanded, voice low but steady.
She giggled, soft and teasing, like a secret hiding behind every sound. Then, like a feather, she kissed the top of my head.
"So many questions," she purred. "But patience, darling. You'll know soon enough."
And with that, she vanished, like mist dissolving in moonlight.
I let out a slow, steady breath and closed my eyes.
Sleep took me before I could wonder what 'soon' really meant.