Peter perched on a weathered couch, its familiar embrace offering little comfort as he stared at the silent theater of the flat screen. Though his body faced the muted drama unfolding, his mind was ensnared by the sight of Nathan, an older echo of his once vibrant friend.

“I’m sorry your girlfriend couldn’t stay," Nathan observed, his voice a solemn echo in the dimly lit room.

Relief washed over Peter, grateful that Tina possessed the tact to recognize the sanctity of their overdue reunion and not to intrude. "Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well."

Nathan's fingers intertwined, forming a lattice of silent support beneath his chin. “Ah, I understand," he murmured while raising his left eyebrow in suspicion.

Peter hesitated, the weight of confession heavy upon his tongue. He had no reason to lie to Nathan. After all, Peter wanted answers from Nathan and knew he wouldn’t receive the truth by lying.

"Actually... she didn't believe you were real."

Nathan snickered, shaking his head in disbelief. As he adjusted his glasses, the light caught the lenses, casting playful glimmers that mirrored the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Why the puzzled look, my friend?" Nathan's voice, rich with humor, cut through the awkward tension.

Peter found himself at a loss for words, the weight of Tina's disbelief pressing down on him like a heavy fog. What had begun as a lighthearted jest between him and Tina now hung in the air like a shadow of doubt, casting uncertainty over his every thought. He turned away, his gaze drifting downward, seeking solace in the patterns of the worn floorboards beneath his feet.

Thoughts raced through Peter’s head:

If she didn’t believe Nathan was real then how would she think my story is real?
Does she think I just made all of it up?
For what?
To get out of going to the beach with her family?
What else does she think is a lie?

As Peter wrestled with his inner turmoil, Nathan sat patiently in his chair, each subtle movement sending ripples of anticipation through the air. At first, he had regarded Peter's hesitation with casual curiosity, but as the moments stretched on, Nathan couldn't help but feel a growing sense of concern creeping into the edges of his mind.

“What happened to you?” Peter’s eyes gazed up, catching his reflection in Nathan’s glasses before tumbling back to the floor in shame. “You just disappeared.”

Nathan peered back at Peter inquisitively, his clasped hands now covering his mouth. He drew in a large breath before silently exhaling. “What do you remember of that day?”

Like a movie playing before his eyes, Peter saw the entire scene play out. His body felt the cold waves absorbing him, along with the saliferous taste within his dry mouth. He had recalled this significant incident so many times, yet not like this before. Somehow, he was able to remember more of what had happened.

Peter had revisited this haunting incident countless times, but never with this kind of brutal clarity. He clenched his eyes shut as if slamming a door against the memories flooding back, desperate to keep them from breaking through. But this only opened the floodgates wider, each image more vivid than the last. It was as if he had triggered a switch that amplified his senses, blurring the line between past and present.

The living room he was in—the worn-out couch, the ticking clock on the wall, the faint smell of coffee—faded into the background, replaced by the sharp sting of salt, the weight of impending danger, and the swirling chaos of his recollections. The harder he tried to block out the memories, the more they pressed against him, like a heavy fog that he couldn't escape.

Each pulse of his heartbeat was a thundering echo, each breath a gasp for air. It had him trapped in the past, reliving the moment over and over, with no clear path back to the present.

Nathan noticed the shift in Peter's demeanor.
“Peter...? Are you okay?" he asked with genuine concern.

Peter’s body convulsed involuntarily, muscles twitching as wave after freezing wave crashed over his head. He heard Nathan’s cries become distant echoes, faint whispers through the rush of water. He braced for the blinding light that always came next—the one that pierced the darkness, signaling the climax of his nightmare. It was the final moment before he would wake up, drenched in sweat, clutching his bedsheets.

However this time, the light wasn't just a blinding flash. It was a suffocating force, like white-hot flames scorching the air around him. The darkness returned, but it felt different, heavier, like the weight of an unseen force pressing down on him. His heart pounded against his ribcage as if it were trying to escape, while the freezing water threatened to take its place.

The fear became more than just an emotional response—it was a physical presence, wrapping around him, squeezing tighter with every breath.

Peter's panic escalated, reaching a level he hadn't experienced before. It was no longer just a dream or a memory—it was a living, breathing entity. His limbs grew weak, unable to fight against the relentless pressure. The moment he stopped struggling, the unseen force cinched tighter, like a serpent coiling around its prey, before plunging him into absolute darkness.

In an instant, his entire world had vanished, leaving him alone in the cold, unending void with no one but whatever was taking him there.



(to be continued…)



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