"Adam—move!"
He didn't.
Not because he didn't hear her.
But because something inside him… hesitated.
Just for a second.
And that was enough.
The younger man lunged again, faster this time, his movements sharp, almost desperate. Adam barely managed to shift aside, the impact grazing his shoulder instead of hitting him head-on.
Pain flared.
Real. Grounding.
"Stop!" Adam snapped, stumbling back. "All of you—just stop!"
No one listened.
Of course they didn't.
Why would they?
The woman tightened her grip on his arm, pulling him away from the center of the street.
"Enough," she said, her voice low but firm. "Youssef, that's enough."
The younger man froze.
Not completely.
But enough.
His chest rose and fell quickly, eyes still locked onto Adam like he was looking at something dangerous. Not unfamiliar—dangerous.
"You don't get it, Laila," he said through clenched teeth. "If he remembers—"
"I know," she cut him off.
Silence.
Heavy.
Tense.
Adam's gaze snapped toward her.
"Laila," he repeated slowly. "That's your name?"
She didn't answer.
Which, somehow, felt like confirmation.
Adam let out a shaky breath.
"Good," he muttered. "Finally something real."
He turned toward the older man.
"And you?"
The man didn't hesitate.
"Hicham."
Simple.
Direct.
Like everything about him.
Adam nodded once, more to himself than to them.
"Alright," he said. "Laila. Youssef. Hicham."
Saying their names out loud made something shift.
Small.
But noticeable.
Like placing pieces on a board he didn't know he was playing on.
"Now," Adam continued, his voice steadier than he felt, "someone explain what the hell is going on."
No one spoke.
Of course.
Laila glanced at Hicham.
A silent exchange.
Something passed between them.
Understanding.
Agreement.
Or maybe warning.
Hicham exhaled softly.
"You're asking the wrong question," he said.
Adam's jaw tightened.
"Then give me the right one."
A pause.
Then—
"Why does it always end the same way?"
The words settled into the air like something heavy.
Adam frowned.
"What does that even—"
Another flicker.
Stronger.
Faster.
The alley.
Blood.
His body hitting the ground.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Adam staggered.
"Stop doing that," he hissed.
"I'm not doing anything," Hicham replied calmly.
"Then why do I keep seeing it?!"
"Because it happened."
Adam shook his head violently.
"No—it didn't. I'm still here."
"For now," Hicham repeated.
Adam's chest tightened.
Same words.
Same tone.
Like this conversation had already happened.
"Listen to me," Hicham continued, his voice quieter now, more focused. "You don't see the future. You remember outcomes."
Adam froze.
The words hit too close.
"You fail," Hicham added. "Over and over again."
Youssef let out a bitter laugh.
"'Fail' is a nice way to say it."
"Enough," Laila snapped.
Adam looked between them.
"Fail at what?" he demanded.
No answer.
Of course.
Instead, Laila stepped forward.
"You need to leave," she said.
"Not until I understand."
"You won't," she replied. "Not like this."
Adam's patience snapped.
"Then how?!" he shouted.
The sound echoed through the narrow street.
For a moment—
Everything went still.
Too still.
Even the distant noise of the city seemed to fade.
Adam felt it immediately.
That shift again.
But stronger.
Worse.
"…do you feel that?" he whispered.
Laila's expression changed.
For the first time—
Fear.
"Yes," she said.
Youssef stepped back.
"No… no, not now…"
Hicham closed his eyes briefly.
"…you pushed too hard," he murmured.
Adam's pulse spiked.
"What does that mean?"
No one answered.
Because they didn't have time.
The world—
Glitched.
There was no other word for it.
The light flickered.
The walls around them seemed to bend—not physically, but something about them felt wrong. Misplaced. Like a badly remembered version of the same place.
Adam turned slowly.
The street was still there.
But not exactly.
The colors were duller.
The shadows deeper.
And the air—
He couldn't breathe it properly.
"What… is this?"
No answer.
Laila grabbed his arm again.
Harder this time.
"We're out of time."
"Time for what—"
The sound came from the alley.
A slow, dragging noise.
Like something being pulled across stone.
Adam's blood ran cold.
"No…" Youssef whispered. "He's not supposed to be here yet."
Adam looked at him.
"Who?"
No one answered.
The sound got closer.
Step.
Drag.
Step.
Drag.
Something was coming.
Something wrong.
Hicham stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of Adam.
For the first time—
He didn't look calm.
"Listen to me," he said, his voice low and urgent. "If it sees you—"
"If what sees me?"
Hicham ignored the question.
"Don't let it recognize you."
Adam stared at him.
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?!"
Too late.
The shadow reached the edge of the alley.
And then—
It stepped into the light.
Adam's breath stopped.
It was—
Him.
Same face.
Same body.
But broken.
Skin cracked like dried stone. Eyes hollow, but glowing faintly from within. Blood—old, dark—stained his clothes.
A version of him that had already—
Died.
"...no way," Adam whispered.
The thing tilted its head.
Slowly.
Studying him.
Like a mirror that knew something he didn't.
Laila tightened her grip.
"Don't move," she whispered.
But Adam couldn't look away.
Because deep down—
He recognized it.
Not as a stranger.
Not as a monster.
But as something worse.
A memory—
That refused to stay dead.
The thing smiled.
Exactly the same way he had seen before.
And Adam felt it—
Not fear.
Not confusion.
Something deeper.
Something pulling him forward.
Calling him.
Like it was waiting.
For him to become it.