Emma jolted awake, heart pounding and drenched in
sweat. She gasped for breath, her hands trembling as
she gripped the bedsheets. It was just a dream. But it all
felt so real. The burning rubber, the screeching tires, the
people screaming-it was like she had been there.
But she hadn't.
She had never been in a car accident. Yet she
remembered it vividly-the cold sting of glass against
her skin, the weight of a dying passenger beside her. A
man's face, blurred but familiar, gasped for air before his
body went still. The smell of gasoline clung to her mind
like a ghostly echo.
Emma pressed her palms against her temples, forcing
herself to breathe. This was the third time this month.
Strangers' memories were slipping into her mind like
cracks forming in a fragile wall. At first, it had been
small things-fleeting images, names she didn't
recognize, the taste of a meal she'd never eaten. But
now? Now it was death.
A sharp beep from her alarm clock made her jump. She
turned and saw the time. 7:45 AM.
"Crap," she muttered. School started in fifteen minutes.
She stumbled out of bed, legs still shaky, and made her
way to the bathroom. Flipping the light switch, she
stared at her reflection. She still looked like herself, shoulder-length brunette hair, brown eyes, the faint scar
on her left cheek from when she fell off her bike at age
nine.
But was she still herself?
The memories weren't just coming more frequentlythey were staying. She could still feel the weight of that
man's last breath, the fading warmth of his body. The
sensation clung to her like cobwebs, refusing to leave.
A sudden chime rang through the house, making her
flinch.
The doorbell.
"Emma, get the door!" That was her Aunt Bertha's voice
from the kitchen.
Emma took a deep breath and hurried down the hall,
past the scent of over-buttered toast and coffee. She
pulled open the front door to find Nathan standing there,
dressed for school in his neatly pressed uniform, his
backpack slung over one shoulder.
"Emma? You okay?" he asked, brows furrowed. "You
look a mess."
She forced a tired smile. "Bad dream," she lied.
Nathan studied her for a moment, his brown eyes
scanning her face like he could see straight through her.
"You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Not a ghost, she thought. Someone's death.
Emma tightened her grip on the doorknob. "I'm fine. I'll
meet you at school."
Nathan exhaled, clearly unconvinced. "Alright. Just...
don't do that thing where you disappear for days. People
worry, you know."
She nodded, offering another forced smile as she closed
the door.
Emma turned and leaned against it, exhaling shakily.
Nathan was right-she had been withdrawing, and it was
getting harder to hide why.
She needed to figure this out.
Before she lost herself completely.