Chapter Four: Swap

As I glanced around the world soaked by rain, reality broke the veil, piercing the black curtain like a spear through armor, with beams of light seeping through the cracks, blinding me.I could only hear a subtle crackling sound.

Then the light began to fade. As it retreated from the peripherals of my sight, it was replaced by a void—an all-encompassing stark void.The light focused to a single point and began to wane. The humming was replaced by a subtle flow of water.

As I stepped toward the light, the clicking of my footsteps echoed, as if I were in a chamber, yet the space I was in held no bounds.

Step… Step… Step…

As I approached, I could make out what the light was in the distance—it seemed to be some kind of window.

Step… Step… Step…

I gasped. On the other side was a face I knew too well—my father.

His eyes were dark brown, and his beard was thick and rough. There were stains on his shirt, black stains—probably from his job as a mechanic.I could hear the shower running and see steam beginning to fog the window.

It seemed as if I was looking at him through the bathroom mirror, and he was just standing there with his hands on the sink.

I had no idea what was going on.

Where am I?Why is it so dark?And why is it so cold?

Suddenly, a golden light engulfed the mirror. I couldn't see anything on the other side—it was like I was staring into the sun.

Snatch!

A golden hand burst through the mirror and pulled me through.

Jolting awake, I found myself in a strange scene.

The air was damp, the breeze frigid, and I could hear raindrops drumming against a canvas above my head. As I looked around, I saw hundreds of people, all cheering, their voices sounding like great waves crashing along the shore.

Then, I realized—I was in the front row of a grandstand. A grandstand I knew well.

Directly in front of me, about seven meters down, was a track. We were seated along a turn, and across the track, illuminated by a spotlight, was a sign that read:

[Turn 4]

Far above that sign was a giant screen that usually displayed the lead racers.

Strangely, though, it wasn't following the ones on the podium so far. Instead, it was following an all-black car—one that was barely visible in the dark of the night. In the corner of the screen, a number and a name appeared, but they seemed to be censored:

[6th place, *****]

As I glanced further ahead at the track, I could see another turn approaching.

At first, I couldn't make out its label, but as my eyes began to focus and the letters aligned, I could just barely read it:

[Turn 3]

When I looked back at the screen, I saw the black car swerve, hugging the third corner. Its back tires slashed side to side, leaving rubber streaks on the track.

As the car exited the corner, it began to steady, but I still felt uneasy.

This feels like the eye of a hurricane… the calm before the storm.

My heart began to pound in my ears, drowning out the sound of the rain. But as my heartbeat, too, faded, only one sound remained—the steady hum of an engine.

The black car's engine.

Now gazing at the track, I could finally see the black car with my own eyes. I watched as it accelerated violently, like a missile heading toward a bunker, as if the driver had lost all restraint.

The revving sound of its engine grew louder… and louder… until the noise became deafening, ringing in my ears with each pop of the exhaust.

Then suddenly—

BANG.

The black car violently burst into flames, dousing the track in an orange light.

It spun out, nearly flipping on its side, spewing water from its hind wheels.

I could see the driver, his neck whipping and craning. He was at the mercy of fate—like blood in a centrifuge.

The car whipped once more, causing the driver to face toward me.

Time withered and waned to a halt as we locked eyes for what felt like an eternity.

No way. It can't be.

I looked around for something—anything—that could convince me I was wrong.

I recognize that car…

Shit, I recognize the damn grandstands too!

Wait—could it be?

As I counted the number of asterisks in the censored name, my stomach dropped.

Five.

My heart skipped. My breath drew short.

[Letting out a wispy breath]

"There's five fucking letters in my name."

"Why am I not in the car?"

"wait, no no no, could it be?"

My eyes darted toward my wrinkled shirt. Pulling on it sent chills through my body as I realized—

It was a jersey.

A jersey with a signature.

One that read…

"Aerin."

My heart and head snapped back to the track. But instead of seeing the black car—

I saw something else.

A piece of scorched, flaming debris flying straight toward me.

suddenly a voice left my mouth that wanst mine, a girls voice

"Mommy!?"

[Black.]

***