Falling.
Again.
Why does the universe keep dropping me like an unreliable Wi-Fi connection?
My scream got stuck somewhere in my chest as I tumbled through the void — glowing fragments rushing past me like broken stars.
And then—
THUD.
I hit something soft.
Like a mattress made of light.
I gasped, sucking air into my lungs like I hadn't breathed in hours.
The darkness around me dissolved.
Slowly.
Like ink being washed out of water.
And I found myself kneeling inside—
A classroom.
But not a normal one.
Not even the "weird dream at 3 AM" kind.
This classroom had:
floating desks
windows showing NOTHING but white fog
walls scribbled with words in a language I somehow… understood
a chalkboard that kept erasing itself
books with blank covers that whispered when I passed them
My voice cracked.
"Where… where am I now?"
A soft giggle echoed behind me.
I froze.
Turned slowly.
And saw him.
A little boy.
Maybe 6 years old.
Pretty brown eyes.
Soft curls.
A tiny hoodie that looked a size too big.
Shoes dangling off a floating desk because his legs were too short.
He swung them playfully as if reality wasn't breaking in 50 places.
When he saw me, his face lit up.
"Hi, Mama."
My heart STOPPED.
"Ex—excuse me WHAT?!"
He tilted his head.
"You look younger here. That's funny."
I blinked. HARD.
"Young—? HUH?? HOW OLD DO I LOOK IN YOUR VERSION?!"
He giggled.
"Very old. Like… old-old."
He wrinkled his nose.
"But nice."
BRO.
I WAS BEING ROASTED BY A TIME-TRAVEL KINDERGARTENER.
I forced a breath.
"Okay… little buddy… why are you calling me Mama?"
He blinked innocently.
"Because you are my mama."
I pointed at myself dramatically.
"Me? THIS me? 22 years old, sleeps twelve hours, emotionally unstable, nearly died four times today—ME??"
He nodded proudly.
"Yep!"
"Nope. Impossible. I'd remember giving birth, sweetheart. I don't even remember yesterday's breakfast."
He giggled again.
"You didn't give birth to me here."
"…Here?"
"In this timeline," he said casually.
THIS.
CHILD.
TALKED LIKE HE WAS DISCUSSING WEATHER.
My brain crashed.
"Okay wait wait WAIT—
Which timeline are you from??"
His little smile faded.
"I don't know anymore."
Something about the way he said it cracked something deep in my chest.
The classroom lights flickered.
The chalkboard suddenly filled with scribbles:
REMEMBER
REMEMBER
REMEMBER
REMEMBER
I swallowed.
The boy hopped off the desk and walked toward me.
Tiny footsteps echoing too loudly.
He reached out and touched my hand.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
"I missed you," he whispered.
My throat burned.
"I… I don't even know you."
He squeezed my hand.
"It's okay. I know you."
Something hot stung my eyes.
Then the fog outside the windows THICKENED.
The desks rattled.
A low growl vibrated the air.
The boy's expression changed instantly — fear flashing in his eyes.
"Oh no…"
I crouched down to him.
"What's wrong?"
He grabbed my wrist with surprising strength.
"They followed you."
I felt my heart plummet.
"Who followed me?"
He looked toward the fog.
"Your shadow."
My blood froze.
"You mean the creature? The Rememberer?"
He shook his head violently.
"No. Not him.
Her."
I stood up so fast stars flashed in my vision.
"The other me?"
He nodded once, tiny face pale.
"She's looking for you. She's very angry."
The fog pressed against the windows, distorting their shape like a huge force was trying to push inside.
Something began scraping the glass.
Screeeeech.
Screeeeeech.
Screeeeech.
The boy tugged my sleeve.
"Mama… I want to go home."
My heart cracked.
"I don't know where your home is…"
He shook his head.
"You do. In one of the timelines. You were happy there."
The room trembled.
Books flew open.
Desks slammed into walls.
Chalk dust swirled into words:
SHE'S HERE
I grabbed the boy.
"Where's the exit?! How do we leave?!"
He pointed to a door I SWEAR was not there two seconds ago.
"There," he whispered.
I ran.
Holding him tight.
But before I reached the door—
A hand slammed against the glass window.
Her hand.
The glowing veins.
The cracked skin.
The white, pupil-less eyes.
The OTHER me peered through the window with a smile that froze my blood.
Then she whispered something that shattered me:
"You stole my son too?"
The boy screamed.
I grabbed him tighter.
The classroom exploded into white light—
And everything vanished.
---