September 20th, 8:05 AM -Ash's Apartment
Ash sat at his desk, flipping through his journal, searching for something anything that made sense. The pieces weren't fitting together, slipping through his grasp like sand. Then his eyes locked onto a single line scribbled hastily in the margins: "Call from unknown number student asked for notes."
A static hum crawled up his spine. He remembered that call, but the voice, the name it was hazy. Blurred. He had sent the notes. He was sure of it.
But to whom?
His fingers hovered over his phone. No messages. No call log entry. No proof it had ever happened.
His breath came slow and measured. This is where it started. Before the distortions. Before the missing time. Before the world started feeling wrong.
And yet, there was something else. A faint image in his mind, a flicker of memory just out of reach. A meeting? No a presence. A moment that should have been unremarkable, but instead sat at the edges of his thoughts like a smudged fingerprint on glass.
9:15 AM-Campus Library
The library loomed, silent and expectant. Ash hesitated before stepping inside. The last time he had been here, something had changed.
He made his way through the rows of shelves, his fingers brushing against old spines as he walked, his mind grasping at the loose ends of a memory he couldn't quite recall. Then, he stopped.
The book.
The one he had taken from the shelf that night. A black leather cover, no title. Something about it had felt... wrong. Like it had been waiting for him.
He flipped through the pages, his breath slow, measured. The words were too clear, the ink too fresh. And then, on the last page, scrawled in handwriting that wasn't his, a name stared back at him.
Vincent Darren
A static weight settled in his chest. Why did that name feel familiar?
A shudder of recognition, like an echo of something lost. The name slithered through his mind, unlocking fragments of memory. A voice asking for notes. A presence asking for help. A connection he had ignored at the time, because people asking for favors were nothing new.
Except now, there was nothing left of Vincent Darren.
The student who had called him that night.
The student who had asked for notes.
The student who had asked him to come to the university.
They were the same person.
And yet, when he searched the university records, Vincent Darren did not exist.
10:20 AM - Veridion University
Ash moved through the university halls, searching. A name. A face. Anything.
But there was nothing.
No records. No recollection. No one who had ever heard of Vincent Darren.
The more he asked, the more alien the question became. Faces turned blank, brows furrowed as if his words carried static interference. Even Professor Halden, a man who prided himself on remembering every student, shook his head with polite confusion.
"There's no student by that name," the professor said, as if the words had weight. As if they were final.
Ash felt something tighten in his chest. No. That wasn't right.
Vincent had been there. Hadn't he?
He asked classmates. Friends. Even the administration.
The response was always the same. Vincent Darren had never been there.
The more he tried to hold onto the idea of him, the more the memory unraveled.
3:00 PM - Campus Library
The librarian sat at her desk, typing, her face blank. Too Blank.
Ash ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, considering his next words carefully. "I was here a few nights ago," he said. "I found a book. Black cover. No title."
She blinked. "We have many books."
His patience thinned. "This one was different."
A pause. Too long.
Then, a small shift. A twitch of her fingers, something just barely wrong with the movement, like a puppet's strings being tugged too sharply.
"I don't know what you mean."
Her voice was calm, measured, too practiced. The way her gaze locked onto him felt calculated, too precise.
Ash swallowed back the urge to press further. He had the distinct, unshakable sense that he wasn't having a conversation with a person, but something playing at being one.
His pulse quickened as he took a slow step back, eyes scanning the shelves. The missing books had returned, as if they had never been gone. The space where his book had been was filled with something else entirely.
The world around him exhaled, almost imperceptibly. A shift. A realignment.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
The whisper came not from the phone, not from the librarian, but from the library itself.
"What is erased should stay forgotten."
Ash exhaled slowly, gripping his phone tightly. The rational part of his mind clawed for explanations, for something concrete to hold onto. But there was nothing logical about this.
Vincent had called him that night.
And then he had been erased.
His fingers hovered over his phone screen, debating whether to call the unknown number back. Would it even connect? Would he hear anything? Or would the silence on the other end stretch long enough to make him doubt he had ever received the call at all?
He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. What was he even hoping for? A polite customer service rep to tell him, 'Sorry, the student you are trying to reach no longer exists'?
His mind supplied a dozen rationalizations. Maybe he was tired. Maybe stress was making him hallucinate. Maybe this was some elaborate prank orchestrated by someone with far too much time on their hands.
But deep down, beneath the sarcasm and cynicism, a quiet truth settled in his gut.
Something had changed. Something had taken Vincent away.
And now, Ash had a choice: walk away, let this whole thing slip into the void like it was meant to or keep pulling at the thread, no matter what was on the other end.
His grip tightened around the book in his bag. His footsteps were steady as he left the library, stepping into the cold evening air. The city moved on as if nothing had happened, as if Vincent Darren had never existed.
But Ash knew better.
And he wasn't done looking.