The days blurred together, folding into one another like torn pages from a book I could no longer read. Every morning felt like waking in someone else's dream—familiar but disturbingly unfamiliar. It was as if the world around me was shifting subtly, a constant whisper that reality was slipping through my fingers.
I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, the glow from my phone casting long shadows across the room. The message from the unknown number echoed in my mind: "Find me before time runs out." Those words felt like a ticking clock deep inside my chest, each second passing faster than the last.
School was no refuge. The halls, once filled with laughter and faces I knew, now felt like a maze I was trapped in. People passed by without noticing me, or if they did, their eyes held a strange, unreadable question. Lina's concerned glances were the only thing that kept me grounded.
"Are you really okay?" she asked softly one afternoon as we sat under the old oak tree. Her brown eyes searched mine, looking for the truth I was too scared to admit.
I swallowed hard, the weight of my secrets heavy on my tongue. "I don't know," I finally whispered.
She reached out, her hand brushing against mine. "You don't have to face this alone."
But loneliness was my constant companion. At home, the silence was deafening. The rooms felt empty, haunted by voices of a family I barely recognized. My parents' arguments, the laughter of my siblings, even their silent disregard—it all seemed muted, as if I was an outsider looking in.
One night, unable to sleep, I slipped out into the cold city air. The streets were quiet, lit only by flickering street lamps casting long shadows that danced with every gust of wind. I walked aimlessly, trying to chase the pieces of my fractured reality.
In a narrow alley, hidden in the gloom, I saw a silhouette—a figure standing still against the fading light. My heart pounded as I approached cautiously.
"Who are you?" I whispered, voice barely audible.
The figure didn't respond. Yet, the air around him seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken message.
I wanted to run. To scream. To demand answers. But something rooted me to the spot.
Then, a voice, low and gravelly, slipped through the darkness. "You're closer than you think."
I spun around, but the figure was gone, vanished as if swallowed by the night itself.
Shaking, I realized this was no ordinary mystery. The skipped days, the missing time—they were threads in a web far larger than I imagined.
And as the chill seeped into my bones, I understood that the real journey—the one that would change everything—was only beginning.
---
To be continued...