Chapter 14 – A Version of Me

The memory wasn't a memory.

It was a glitch.

Elira stood in the middle of the street, breath fogging in the summer air. It wasn't cold, but her hands trembled. In her right palm, the flash drive burned like ice.

She wasn't supposed to be here—this version of her. Not yet. Not now.

But she was.

Across the road, a mural spanned the side of a crumbling building—a woman in a red coat, walking into static. Elira's heart clenched.

She'd seen this image before.

In her dreams.

Or… someone else's?

Twelve Hours Earlier

Kael sat on the edge of the bed, the laptop screen still glowing with Elira's voice.

"Reversal begins July thirteen."

"She said it like she's someone else," Elira whispered.

Kael closed the screen. "Because she was."

"You mean I was."

He looked at her. "You were a different version of yourself before the resets started. That Elira… she locked everything down. She didn't trust anyone—not even you."

"But why?"

Kael hesitated. "Because she knew what you'd become."

Now

The mural rippled in her vision, like it wanted to move.

Her hand twitched. The flash drive pulsed. For a split second, her mind shattered into pieces—voices, lights, fragments—

A hospital bed.

A scream.

Jane's voice.

"She's not stable! You're killing her!"

Then darkness.

Elira blinked.

And she was back on the street.

Sweat dripped down her neck. Her phone vibrated in her pocket—Jane's name on the screen.

She picked up.

"Elira—listen. I know where Christine's taking you. I saw the tracker. You need to get out of there—now."

"What? I'm not with—"

"Elira." Jane's voice cracked. "She's not your friend. She never was."

Elira's vision spun.

Elsewhere…

Christine watched from the rooftop above.

She turned to the figure behind her. "She's waking up."

Kael's silhouette didn't move. His voice was low. "Then we're almost out of time."

Christine's fingers twitched. "You sure about this? Letting her remember everything before July thirteen?"

"It's the only way to overwrite the collapse. She needs to break the loop."

Christine nodded. "Even if she turns on us?"

"She already did. Five versions ago."

Back with Elira

She ran. The world blurred—memories smacking her in flashes.

A boy laughing.

A knife.

Her own voice screaming in another language.

She reached the alleyway with the red doors. Just like in the drawing on the flash drive. Just like the dream.

There was a keypad.

And she knew the code.

071337

The door clicked.

Behind it:

A wall covered in versions of her face. Each labeled by number. Each with notes scrawled in red ink.

At the center—taped and torn—was a file marked:

ELIRA // VERSION 13-A

Status: Unstable. Potential breach risk.

Watch list: Kael, Jane, Christine.

Elira's hands shook.

She was version 13.

The thirteenth life. The thirteenth attempt.

On the last page of the file, a note in her own handwriting:

"Don't trust him, Elira. Not until he gives you the real memory. The one he's hiding."

"The one about July thirteen."