The translucent box faded from view, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I exhaled, rubbing my face as the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on me. That thing—that giant eye in the sky—just thinking about it made my skin crawl. It had appeared out of nowhere, staring down at me like some divine judge. What was it? Why me?
"Sleep," I muttered, shaking my head. "Overthinking won't help."
I threw myself onto the bed—a mistake. The mattress was stiff, barely giving under my weight. It was nothing like the soft pillow I had back home. My head hit the rough fabric with a dull thud, and I let out a quiet groan, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling.
I tried piecing things together, searching for some logical explanation, but I kept coming up empty-handed. There was no logical explanation for what I saw through that window. Not a single one.
I shut my eyes and turned onto my side. Then the other. Then back again.
Insomnia. Of course.
My body begged for rest, but my brain refused to cooperate. Thoughts kept swirling in my head, refusing to settle. If only I had my sleeping pills…
"This sucks…" I whispered into the empty room.
Then—a knock came on the door.
I flinched, blinking up at the door. "Hmm…"
Dragging myself upright, I ran a quick hand through my hair, smoothing my clothes before pulling the door open.
Phoebe stood there, holding a small wooden tray. A fresh-baked roll of bread, a slice of cheese, and some tomatoes rested neatly on it. In her other hand, she balanced a wooden cup filled with orange juice. The warmth of the bread's scent hit me first, making my stomach tighten in sudden hunger.
"Hey," Phoebe said, offering a small smile. "I brought you some food. Are you hungry?"
"I…" My words caught in my throat as my eyes flicked past her.
Just behind her, a man leaned against the wall, casually chatting with someone. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, with short brown hair and dark eyes that matched. But what made my blood run cold was his skin—dark crimson. And from his head, two horns curled slightly upward.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Phoebe, however, didn't even seem fazed, like this was normal.
"Y-yeah," I forced out, tearing my eyes away from the man. "I, uh… I am. Thanks."
"Phoebe," the horned man called, his voice smooth and easy. "You still got some wine left?"
"Oh, yes," she replied as I took the tray from her hands. "You and your wife come now. I had some delivered just today."
"Perfect." The man rubbed his hands together with a grin. "I'll go call her."
I swallowed hard, my grip tightening on the tray. Was this normal? No one was panicking. No one was pointing at the guy screaming demon! He was just… chatting. Like it was an everyday thing.
He glanced my way for a brief second. I immediately looked down, heart pounding.
"Thanks again," I said to Phoebe, my voice quieter than before.
She turned her attention back to me and gave a small nod. "Sure, kid."
With that, she turned and walked down the corridor, her footsteps fading. I shut the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
"Alright…" I murmured, rubbing the back of my neck. "Calm down, Ax. Just… calm down."
Taking the tray over to the table, I plopped down onto the sturdy chair and picked up the bread, tearing off a chunk. As soon as I took a bite, my eyes widened.
"Holy—this is good."
Better than anything I'd ever eaten back home. With all our fancy technology and processed junk, nothing had ever tasted this fresh before. This bread… it was as if it had been picked straight from a tree in heaven.
I devoured the meal quickly, barely leaving crumbs behind.
Then, sighing, I stood and made my way back to the bed. The moon outside shone brightly, casting silver light through the small window. The streets outside were beginning to quiet, market stalls packing up, people heading home.
"A nightmare," I whispered to myself, curling onto my side. "When I wake up… I'll be back home."
❂❂❂
I was home.
An absurdly massive backpack weighed down my shoulders, my arms wrapped tightly around my homework folder. A familiar warmth settled in my chest as I stepped onto the porch, raising a fist to knock on the door.
Since I was in a dream, nothing was clear. All I could make out was the door to my house, the rest shrouded in darkness, as if I were standing in the abyss.
A moment passed before it creaked open, revealing my mother's face. Her smile was soft, warm—just as I remembered.
"Welcome home," she said gently. Her eyes flicked to my hands. "What's that?"
Excitement bubbled up inside me. I beamed, holding up my papers like a trophy.
"I got a hundred on my homework!" I declared. "The teacher really liked it!"
Her expression brightened. "Good job!" She pulled me into a hug, the scent of her lavender perfume wrapping around me. "Come on, head inside."
"Yes!"
Kicking off my shoes, I stepped into the house, feeling the familiar wooden floor beneath my socks. As I reached up to unbutton my coat, my mother suddenly placed something in my hand out of nowhere—a small pill, marked with a tiny 'X.'
My grin wavered.
Obediently, I popped it into my mouth, swallowing it dry. Water wasn't allowed—Mother always said it weakened the effect. The pill scraped against my throat, and I grimaced, coughing slightly. My fingers fumbled, and my homework slipped from my grasp, scattering onto the floor.
She picked it up right away, her eyes quickly scanning the pages. As she read through my answers, her smile faded, and she glanced at me every now and then. After a few long moments—maybe five or six seconds—her expression shifted entirely.
"This isn't your handwriting," she said sharply.
I blinked. "What? No, Mom, it's mine."
Her grip on the paper tightened, and her gaze shot to me, cold and sharp. Though I'd told her the truth, it was clear she didn't believe me.
"Who are you?" she sneered, her voice rising. "Who the fuck are you!"
A strange, suffocating pressure settled in my chest. "It's me, Mom," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I swear, I didn't get help—"
Her breath hitched. A flicker of something—fear? Rage?—passed through her eyes.
Her eyes widened, and her body recoiled slightly, as if the realization had finally hit her. "A doppelgänger."
"What?" I took a step back.
"The government," she hissed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're trying to spy on me this way, huh?"
I swallowed hard. "M-Mother—"
"Get out!"
Pain exploded across my cheek as her palm struck me. My head snapped to the side, a sharp sting blooming where she had hit me.
"No—please, I—"
Her hands clamped onto my shoulders, nails digging into my skin as she shoved me backward. The door swung open, and before I could protest, she threw me outside.
I barely had time to react before my back hit the ground, my head smacking against the ground with a dull thud. Stars burst in my vision.
Tears burned my eyes as I clutched my throbbing skull, my younger self curling up, shaking. How young was I? Eight? It was hard to tell.
And then—her voice. Cold. Full of disgust. "Doppelgänger."
She spat at me, then crumpled my homework into a ball and threw it at my head, the paper smacking me square in the face.
I flinched, my breath hitching. "Mothe—"
But she didn't listen. With a final shake of her head, the door slammed shut in my face.
And I woke up.
Gasping, I bolted upright, my body drenched in sweat. My breaths came in ragged pants, my hands clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor me.
The dream was already slipping from my grasp, fading like mist. I knew how this went—I wouldn't remember it fully now. But later, at some random moment, it would come crashing back, uninvited. It always did.
Even if the details blurred, my racing heart and damp forehead told me all I needed to know. It was her again. It had to be.
I exhaled, trying to shake off the lingering dread. My eyes flicked to the window. The sky was still dark, but a faint glow traced the horizon—the sun was rising. Outside, a few guards patrolled the quiet streets, their heavy boots echoing against the stone. Their sharp eyes flicked from shadow to shadow, ever watchful. I didn't know the exact time, but judging by the dim light, it had to be around five in the morning.
"Well," I muttered, rubbing my face. "At least I got some sleep."