The Wrong Name

Al needed answers. 

He took the risk. He texted back: "Who is this?" 

No response. 

Minutes passed. His skin itched. He couldn't sit still. 

Maybe he was losing it. Maybe the Shadow was warping things in his head. 

He had to get out. 

He threw on a hoodie, shoved his phone in his pocket, and left his apartment. The city streets were quiet at this hour. Streetlights buzzed, flickering slightly. 

Al walked aimlessly, his mind racing. He needed to do something. 

That's when someone brushed past him. 

A stranger. Late twenties. Hoodie pulled up. 

Al wouldn't have thought twice about him— 

Except the man stiffened. 

Then turned—slowly. 

Al felt the weight of his stare. 

The man's eyes widened. 

And then, in a horrified whisper— 

"It's you." 

Al's stomach twisted. "What?" 

The stranger backed away. Like he had just seen a corpse stand up. 

"No, you—" He swallowed hard. His voice cracked. "You're not supposed to be here." 

Al's blood ran cold. 

But before he could speak— 

The man bolted. 

Vanished down the street, sprinting like his life depended on it. 

Al stood there, his breath coming fast. His hands trembled. 

What the hell was happening? 

The Shadow exhaled in amusement. 

"You're catching up, Al. Keep going."