I woke to the shrill, grating sound of my alarm. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself to move. With a long sigh, I dragged myself to the bathroom.
Cold water splashed over my face, shocking me awake. In the shower, I watched the steam spread across the mirror before dressing quickly: black T-shirt, jeans, worn sneakers.
Breakfast was a stale piece of bread and lukewarm coffee. I ate in silence, gazing out the kitchen window at a street still stirring to life. When I was done, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and stepped outside.
The cold wind bit at my cheeks as I walked along the damp sidewalks. A fruit vendor was setting up his stand. A stray dog rummaged through a pile of trash. A couple argued in low voices at the corner. Everything seemed so… ordinary. Almost comforting.
I turned the corner just as the bus came into view. I jogged, climbed the steps, and collapsed into a window seat. The city blurred past—streetlights, signs, buildings. People in a hurry. Bicycles. Honking horns.
My phone buzzed. Notification: "Your favorite novel — final chapter out now."
I stared at the screen—and then something strange. Flashes. Images. Memories that didn't belong to me. People I'd never met. Tears I'd never shed. It felt… wrong.
I barely had time to wonder what it meant before a metallic crack split the air. Something tore through the bus with a sound like thunder. Glass exploded. Then—a rod of steel burst through the side and straight into my chest.
Air vanished. Blood filled my mouth. I tried to breathe, but a deafening ring drowned out the world. My hands shook violently, weakening by the second as my vision blurred.
My phone slipped from my grasp. On its blood-smeared screen, a message flickered: ":) hope you enjoy."
---
Darkness swallowed everything.
Floating in it felt like sinking into icy water, weightless yet pulled down by something unseen. And then—my eyes snapped open.
I was lying on a plain bed in a modest room. Dim light seeped through a crooked window. I tried to sit up… nothing. My body throbbed as if it had been crushed.
Bit by bit, I forced my arms to move, scanning the unfamiliar room. Nothing here belonged to me. The crash. The steel rod. The blood—they all slammed back into my mind at once.
Nausea rose. My breathing quickened. My fingers pressed against my chest—hot. Too hot. Cold sweat ran down my neck.
Something pulsed there, slow and uneven, like it didn't belong to me. I tugged my shirt aside.
I froze.
A black, jagged stain had spread across the left side of my chest, its veins snaking outward like cracks in glass.
And it was moving. Crawling under my skin.
"What the hell kind of situation is thi—"
The words cut off as pain hit me—sharp and blinding, like a migraine turned up to eleven. My vision fractured, and the memories surged again: people I'd never met, tears I'd never cried, emotions that weren't mine clawing their way into me.
"Shit!" I yelled, clutching my head as if I could squeeze the pain out. I toppled to my side, writhing while the flood of images burned through my mind. Faces. Voices. Places. None of them mine—yet they felt like they'd been carved into me.
Time lost meaning—seconds or minutes, I couldn't tell—until the agony finally began to ebb.
Breathing hard, I lay there, one hand still pressed against my chest. My lips moved almost without my consent, the words escaping in a trembling whisper.
"…Noah Miller."