Shadows from the Past

It's been two days, and even though I'm home for the holidays, I can't escape the weight of regret.

Was I too harsh with him?

I don't even know his name. How can I apologize?

And then there's that girl. Who is she? What happened to her? My thoughts won't stop spiraling.

Since the accident, my life hasn't felt normal. On the surface, I look fine—my brain handles my day-to-day life, talking to people, making decisions. But deep down, in the quiet of my heart, there's another soul. Another me.

She doesn't speak. She's silent most of the time, watching, waiting. But when I'm around him—the guy I argued with—my heart grows louder, more desperate. But I don't know why I think she want to tell something but can't speak.

The accident took a part of me, left my life shattered in ways no one else can see. But it also brought her—this second soul. She can't speak, only within my mind. And when she tries to take control, it feels like I'm drowning in her emotions, her pain.

That guy... he's tied to the accident. I don't know how, but he is. My brain tells me to stay away, but my heart—want me to go to him, to demand the truth.

Today, my phone buzzes.

It's a text from an unknown number: "Meet me nearby." My heart races very fast as I type a cautious reply: "Who are you?" The response comes quickly: "Something feels off, doesn't it? Don't you know me?" Then he says his name.

I freeze. My phone slips from my hands as I process the name. It feels familiar, like an old wound reopening. For a moment, the heart started pain. My heart—screams. I think it's my 2nd soul she can't speak but she can scream.

Against my better judgment, I decide to meet him. As I approach the meeting spot, unease washes over me. My legs feel like lead, my heartbeat loud in my ears. Memories flash before my eyes—flashes of the accident, blurred faces, his voice. My past feels too close, too real. Then something shifts inside me. The one in my heart, takes over. I stop in my tracks, my instincts screaming at me to turn back. My head feels split in two—one part urging me to leave, the other begging me to confront him.

I decide to leave. But when I get home, my phone buzzes again. The message sends chills down my spine: "We'll meet soon. But for now, stay safe. Your death is in my hands—and it will be the second time." The second time? My hands tremble as I reread the words. A cold wave of realization washes over me. He caused the accident.

But how can I face him, knowing what he did? How can I trust him to give me the answers I need? Whatever this is, it's bigger than me. It's bigger than both of us. And I know this: meeting him will change everything.