CHAPTER TEN

The night was thick with silence as I crept through my room, every step careful, as though the floorboards might betray me. The only light came from the sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows that seemed to stretch unnaturally. My heart pounded in my chest, its rhythm quickening with every cautious step. I was close now, so close.

I approached my bed, and there she was—I was there, lying under the covers, fast asleep. The sight of my own form, peaceful, unaware, sent a shudder down my spine. A deep breath filled my lungs, but the air seemed heavier than before. My hand shook slightly as I pulled the cold steel from my pocket. The knife felt too real, its sharp edge gleaming in the dark, as I raised it above her—me.

I paused for a moment, standing there over the body of someone I’d once been. The silence around us was suffocating, and the weight of the moment hung like an iron chain. I wasn’t sure if I was more afraid of what I was about to do, or of the part of me that was willing to carry it out.

With one swift motion, I lunged, aiming the blade at my own stomach. But before the point could even graze the skin, I felt the bed shift. She moved faster than I could comprehend, twisting out of the way just as the knife buried itself into the mattress with a loud thunk. I froze, staring down at her—the me I could never quite escape from.

Her eyes flickered open, and for a split second, time seemed to slow. There, in the dim glow of the room, she looked up at me with wide, startled eyes. The familiar look—confusion, fear, and something else—flickered across her face. It was my face, but I had never looked at it like this before. The mirror had never reflected this desperation. The desperation of what I was about to do.

The room felt colder, heavier. My pulse roared in my ears, and I could hear the faint tremble in my voice as I spoke.

"I'm sorry about this," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My tone was steady, but deep down, I knew how hollow it sounded. I had said those words before, and they hadn’t made a damn bit of difference. "I have to if the future is to be saved. It’s best for the both of us."

I raised the blade again, but this time, she was quicker. In a blur of motion, she grabbed my wrist, halting me midair. The pressure of her grip was like a vice, and before I could pull away, a strange heat began to radiate from where her hand met my skin. It burned—more than that—it seared. Sparks crackled around us, shooting like electric tendrils into the air. The energy that pulsed from our touch was almost unbearable.

I tried to pull back, but something was happening. The pain—the burning sensation—felt as though it was merging the past and present in a violent collision. I could feel the threads of who I was, who I used to be, intertwining with the person I had become, each layer of memory and emotion clashing like waves against jagged rocks. I couldn’t tell where I ended, where she began.

We both screamed, but the sound was muffled, drowned out by the sound of something else—something far worse. The energy that swirled around us was unstable, growing more chaotic by the second, and I realized too late that we were about to lose control. I could feel it in my bones: the rush of power, the overwhelming sensation of the world shifting.

A crack of pure force split the air as the energy exploded outward in a shockwave of unimaginable power. The walls shuddered, and everything around us seemed to bend and warp, distorting as if reality itself was breaking apart. The force of it was enough to knock me off my feet, but I couldn’t move. The world around us dissolved into nothingness.

And then, darkness.