When the world finally came back into focus, it did so in pieces—blurry, shifting fragments that barely made sense. A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes, steady and relentless, like a drumbeat I couldn't escape. My head felt heavy, sore, and strangely distant, as if it didn't quite belong to me.
A wave of nausea and confusion rolled through me, leaving me gasping in the thick, stale air.Where the hell was I?I blinked a few times and tried to take in my surroundings. A hotel room. Small, plain, and barely furnished. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled like someone had stormed out in a hurry.
A cheap dresser stood against the wall, empty except for a single folded piece of paper lying on top. The air smelled of old cigarettes and damp fabric—it clung to my throat, bitter and overwhelming.Through the rain-streaked window, I could see a city sprawling beneath a bruised, gray sky.
The rain fell hard, needling against the glass in uneven rhythms. Streetlights cast a yellow haze over the wet pavement below, turning the empty streets into something cold and distant. I didn't recognize this place at all. It felt foreign, detached—like I'd woken up in someone else's life.The paper on the dresser drew my eyes again.
Something about it tugged at me, promising answers I wasn't sure I wanted. My hand shook a little as I reached for it. The paper was crisp, rough against my skin.Typed in plain, bold letters were the words:
"They know. Find Dr. Albright. He's the only one who can help."That was it.
No name, no signature, no clue who "they" were.A chill rippled through me. Who were they? What did they know? And who was Dr. Albright? The words sat heavy in my chest, pressing down harder the longer I stared. The only thing I knew for certain was that nothing about this felt safe.
I tried to piece together what had happened the night before, but my mind was blank—completely wiped clean. It felt like someone had carved out the memories and left nothing behind but confusion and an ache in my chest.
The room around me seemed to close in, the silence heavy, almost suffocating.The only thing that felt real was the pounding in my head. It wasn't just pain; it was the physical shape of my fear.
I pressed my fingertips to my temples, hoping to ease the pressure, but it barely made a difference. The storm outside matched the chaos inside my skull—loud, constant, impossible to escape. I felt lost, drifting through fragments of thoughts that refused to connect.
This wasn't a hangover.
This felt like a nightmare I couldn't wake up from.A sudden wave of nausea hit me, forcing me to sit down on the edge of the bed. The cheap fabric scratched against my skin. Every nerve felt alert, as if my body knew something I didn't. My hands shook as I reached toward the window, tracing the raindrops sliding down the glass.
Beyond the blur of rain and light, the city looked distorted—like the world had been smeared into a watercolor of confusion and fear.I tried to breathe, to anchor myself in something real.
The room was still, almost too quiet, the only sound the steady tapping of rain against the window. Yet, there was something else. A strange tension in the air, a feeling that I wasn't alone. The thought crept in slowly, then hit hard—what if someone else was here? A chill crawled up my spine despite the warm, sticky air. Maybe whoever left that note was still around. Maybe they wanted me to see it.
That note—those words—kept echoing in my head: They know.Who were "they"? What did they know? Were they the ones who brought me here? Had I been drugged? Kidnapped? I dug through the fog in my memory, searching for something—anything—that could explain this. But all I found was more emptiness, more pain. My head throbbed harder with each attempt to remember.I pushed myself to stand. My legs trembled, and the room tilted slightly before snapping back into focus. Whatever had happened, I knew one thing for sure—something was very wrong.
My movements were clumsy, my body heavy and uncooperative. I stumbled toward the bathroom, each step unsteady, the carpet under my feet seeming to shift and tilt like the deck of a ship. When I finally reached the mirror, the face staring back at me was almost unrecognizable—pale, hollow, and exhausted. Dark circles clung under my eyes, and my skin looked drained of life.
It was me, but not really. The reflection felt wrong, fragmented, like a broken version of who I used to be.I leaned in closer, trying to make sense of it. Then something shifted—subtle but undeniable. My reflection moved in a way that I didn't. My lips curled into a faint, cold smile, one I definitely hadn't chosen to make.
It wasn't mine!!!!!!!!
The smile belonged to someone—or something—else.And then I heard it. A whisper. Soft, almost lost beneath the steady patter of rain from outside.
"Interesting," it said.
"Very interesting indeed."
The voice wasn't mine. It came from deep inside my head, low and calm and terrifyingly foreign. My stomach dropped, and for a moment the world tilted again. I wasn't alone. Not just in this room. Not even in my own mind.A wave of panic surged through me as the truth began to take shape—something was inside me, sharing the same space in my head.
My thoughts weren't entirely my own. The headache, the missing memories, the note—they weren't random. They were symptoms of something far bigger, something darker.
"They know."
The words from the note echoed again in my mind, but now they carried a new weight. Whoever "they" were, they weren't just after me—they might've already found a way in. This wasn't just confusion or paranoia. It felt like an invasion.The whisper came again, faint but deliberate, threading through my thoughts like smoke. I could feel it testing me, pushing at the edges of my mind, exploring its new home. I tried to fight back, to take control, but it resisted—calmly, effortlessly. My body was no longer fully mine. My reflection in the mirror seemed to watch me with quiet amusement.Outside, the rain kept falling—steady and unending. Inside, the real storm had already begun.