A Little Peek Into Me?

Alice's POV

There was no pain at first.

Only silence. A weightless drift in nothing. A hush that swallowed even thought.

Then Alice opened her eyes.

And she was no longer Alice.

She was him again.

Not the war-hardened warrior who'd torn through hell with nothing but a broken blade and bloody conviction.

Not the sword-bearing guardian of noble children, protector of the weak.

No.

She was the boy.

The boy who sat cross-legged on a torn beanbag in a small room on the second floor of a modest suburban house in Seattle, surrounded by shelves of comics and plastic figurines. A fan whirred lazily overhead. Posters lined the walls—X-Men, Batman, Naruto—peeling slightly at the edges, faded but loved.