The Fractured Self

Elias Vale woke up to find someone else living his life.

He had gone to bed in his apartment in Chicago. Same routine as always.

But when he opened his eyes, he was in a different home—one he didn't recognize, yet somehow felt familiar.

His phone buzzed.

A message from his wife.

I'll be home late. Love you.

He wasn't married.

Elias ran to the mirror, hands shaking.

The reflection staring back at him…

Wasn't his.

---

Elias tried to act normal.

Whoever he had become, he needed to blend in—until he figured this out.

But the moment he stepped outside, he saw himself.

Standing across the street.

Watching.

The other Elias had the same face. The same clothes. The same cold, knowing stare.

Then he smiled.

And vanished into the morning fog.

---

The more Elias searched for answers, the less sense reality made.

His memories started splitting, fragments of other lives bleeding into his own.

He had no idea which ones were real.

One moment, he was a writer. The next, a doctor. A murderer. A priest. A king. A beggar.

Were they dreams? Or was he remembering who he truly was?

The people around him didn't seem to notice.

Except one.

A man in a suit sat across from him in a café, sipping black coffee.

"You're starting to wake up," the man said, smiling. "Don't fight it."

Elias felt his pulse slow down.

Like time itself was pausing.

The man leaned closer.

"You don't belong to just one life, Elias. None of us do."

Then he slid something across the table—

A black key.

And the world shattered around them.

---

The key led him to a door.

Not in a building. Not in a street.

Just floating in empty space, at the edge of what looked like a crumbling universe.

He opened it—

And stepped into a house filled with versions of himself.

Hundreds. Maybe thousands.

Each one staring at him.

Each one holding their own key.

And all of them whispered the same thing:

"Only one of us gets to be real."

---

Elias finally understood.

He wasn't just one person.

He was all of them.

Every choice he had never made. Every version of himself that could have existed.

They were all fighting to become the true Elias Vale.

And now, they were killing each other for that right.

He looked at the key in his hand.

A door waited at the end of the hall.

If he opened it—

Every other version of him would cease to exist.

But if he didn't—

They would do the same to him.

And they were already moving.

---

Elias ran.

But every door led to another version of himself, waiting with their own plans.

Some begged. Some laughed. Some cried.

One stabbed him in the shoulder.

Another shot at him.

The house shook, walls breaking apart, the endless void creeping in.

In the final room, he saw the original Elias.

The first.

The one who had started it all.

He was already dying.

"You finally made it," the original whispered. "Now finish it."

Elias lifted the key—

And the world chose him.

---

Elias Vale woke up.

Same bed. Same apartment.

His life was his again.

No more fractures. No more echoes. No more doors.

He was the last one standing.

And yet—

Somewhere in the city, in a crowd of strangers, he saw a familiar face.

Someone who looked exactly like him.

Smiling.

And disappearing into the fog.

---

THE END.