"There are… two of me."
The words were difficult to form in my mouth.
Or maybe—
They didn't quite.
Because I wasn't sure which one of us had spoken.
I was on the ground.
I knew that much. My knees pressed hard against the cold pavement, my fingers gripping the rough surface like it was the only thing keeping me connected. My body felt a little shaky.
But at the same time—
I was standing.
I could feel both.
One body trembling slightly.
The other perfectly still.
And only one of us felt uneasy.
Nyra stood motionless between us, her breathing a little uneven, her eyes darting back and forth like she was trying to decide which version of me was real.
"Shawn…" she whispered.
But she didn't move.
Not toward either of us.
That hesitation—
That small moment of doubt—
It felt a little jarring.
"You feel that, don't you?"
The voice didn't echo this time. It didn't need to. It was a clear presence in my mind.
Because it wasn't just in my head anymore.
It was in both of us.
Standing-me smiled. A slow curve of my lips.
The one on the ground—
Me—
I couldn't. My jaw felt tight.
"Nyra…" I forced out, my voice a bit shaky. "I'm here… I'm—"
"Are you?"
The standing version of me tilted his head slowly. The gesture felt familiar, yet off.
"Then why can I feel you thinking?"
My breath caught.
Because he was right.
Every thought I had—every feeling of uncertainty—every attempt to hold on—
He felt it.
Like we were no longer entirely separate.
Like I had been opened up…
And he had taken a part of me.
"No…" I whispered, shaking my head. "You're not me. You're just—just using me—!"
He laughed.
Soft.
Cold.
Familiar.
"Using you?"
He took a step closer to Nyra.
And I felt it—
Like I was the one moving.
My stomach felt a little unsettled. "Stop—don't go near her—!"
My body on the ground lurched forward, trying to stand—
But I collapsed again. Too weak. Too slow.
And he—
He didn't stop.
"You still think in pieces," he said, his voice almost gentle now. "You think there's a 'you'… and a 'me.'"
He stopped right in front of Nyra.
She didn't move. But her hands clenched into fists.
"That's not him," she said, her voice low, controlled, but a little strained underneath. "I don't care how much you look like him… I know the difference."
For a moment—
Just a moment—
Something flickered inside me. Hope.
Then—
He smiled wider.
"Do you?"
And before I could react—
He reached out.
And touched her face.
"NO—!"
The scream tore out of me—loud, frustrated.
Because I felt it.
Not just the movement of my hand. Not just the physical contact.
The feeling. Her skin against my fingers. Her warmth. The way she flinched—
And the part that made something inside me give way a little—
Was that it didn't feel wrong.
It felt…
Natural.
Like it belonged to me.
"Get away from me," Nyra snapped, slapping his hand away.
The sound echoed sharply.
But even that—
I felt.
And something inside me shifted.
Not him.
Me.
A flicker. A pull. A thought that didn't feel like mine—
She chose wrong.
I froze.
Because I didn't know where that thought came from.
And that felt unsettling.
"You see it now," he whispered softly, watching her. "The confusion… the fracture…"
He turned slightly—
Looking directly at me.
The one on the ground.
The one that was supposed to be real.
"You're not losing control."
A pause. Then—
"You're losing definition."
My chest felt tight.
"What does that even mean…?" I choked.
He crouched down slowly. Bringing himself to my level.
So now—
I was staring at myself.
But not really.
Because his eyes…
They weren't empty anymore.
They were full.
Of me.
"It means," he said quietly, "there's no clear line between us anymore."
My heart started to race a little again.
Too fast.
Too loud.
"No…" I shook my head, backing away slightly. "No, that's not—there has to be—there has to be something that's still mine—"
He leaned closer.
Too close.
And whispered—
"Then tell me which one of us wants her to stay."
Everything stopped.
My thoughts. My breath. My heartbeat.
Because I knew the answer.
And I didn't like it.
Nyra stepped forward suddenly, grabbing my arm—the one on the ground.
"Don't listen to it!" she said sharply. "It's trying to blur you. That's how it wins! You have to fight!"
Blur.
That word echoed in my head.
Because that's exactly what it felt like.
Like I wasn't disappearing—
I was blending.
Merging.
Becoming something that wasn't just me anymore.
"I can't tell…" I whispered, my voice hollow now. "Nyra, I can't tell what's mine anymore…"
Her grip tightened.
"No. You can. You're just scared to see it."
I looked up at her. Desperate.
"Then tell me…" I said, my voice barely there.
She hesitated.
And that—
That hesitation—
Was enough.
He smiled.
"See?"
The shadows around us began to move again. Slower this time. Thicker.
Wrapping around us. Not attacking. Not rushing.
Closing.
Like a cocoon.
Like something preparing to finish what it started.
I felt it then. Deep inside.
Not control. Not possession.
Something else.
Acceptance.
And that's when I realized the truth—
I wasn't just fighting to stay in control anymore.
I was fighting to remember…
Which part of me even wanted to win.
And somewhere in the dark—
Right beside me—
Inside me—
He whispered one last thing.
"You're already letting me stay."
And this time—
I didn't know if he was wrong.