“Something’s wrong,” Ava whispered to herself, her voice shaking.
The world around her shifted. Time—time itself—was unraveling, breaking apart, folding into itself like a poorly drawn map. Everything slowed to a crawl, then jerked forward, only to freeze again.
Laughter rang out from a group of students in the hallway, but it wasn’t right. They stopped mid-laugh, faces stuck in the middle of their joke. It was like the air had turned solid—like they were trapped in a picture, their smiles frozen, their words never coming out.
Ava blinked, eyes darting around, her heart pounding in her chest as if she could feel time slipping away from her.
The leaves outside the window hung in the air, not falling, not moving—just suspended like fragile glass, caught in the wind that didn’t blow. The school, the world, everything around her, seemed to hold its breath.
And then—Ava felt it.
Her body jerked, a weird glitch, like she was being pulled backward, like something wasn’t letting her stay. Her legs wobbled, her vision blurred, and for a split second, it was like she could see herself, see her body glitching in and out of focus. It was like she was fading, slipping through a crack in reality.
The thought hit her like ice water. I’m phasing out.
She stumbled forward, adrenaline shooting through her veins as she broke into a run. The hallways seemed endless now, the walls stretching and narrowing as she sprinted, searching for something, anything that felt real.
She didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t know what to do. But she needed to find something to hold onto.
She passed students she used to know, people who had once been her friends, her enemies, her fears. She ran past their faces, and none of them saw her.
They kept walking, talking, laughing—like she wasn’t even there. They didn’t hear the footsteps she left behind. They didn’t see the desperation in her eyes.
“Please, just see me!” she shouted, but the words didn’t leave her lips.
They hung in the air, soundless, unheard. She felt the world pushing her away, like she was fading from everything she once knew, everything she once cared about.
Her heart was in her throat, her breath shallow and quick. She ran faster, her feet pounding the hallway, her fingers scraping the walls as she tried to ground herself in something, anything.
She didn’t know how much time she had left. She didn’t know how long this would last. But she needed to find them. The ones who had been a part of her story, the ones who had hurt her, loved her, changed her.
The faces she used to see.
“Please,” she whispered again, voice hoarse, but the words dissolved into nothing.
She turned a corner, her legs heavy with exhaustion, her mind a blur of fear and confusion. The hallway stretched ahead of her, empty, quiet. The silence was deafening, and then, as if the universe decided it wasn’t finished with her yet, she saw it.
She saw her. Her teenage self.
Standing right there. In the middle of the hallway, staring at her. Fully aware. Eyes wide, full of questions—full of everything Ava had left behind.
Ava’s breath caught in her throat, her body freezing in place. The air around them felt thick, suffocating, the sound of her heartbeat in her ears louder than the silence between them.
Her teen self, the girl she had tried so hard to forget, stood in front of her—no longer a memory. She was real. And she was looking at Ava like she understood everything.
The girl she used to be. The girl she hated. The girl she had once wanted to be. And the worst part? The terrifying part? Her teenage self spoke.
“You think you can leave me behind?” the girl asked, her voice sharp, full of the same pain Ava had buried so many years ago. “You think I don’t get to exist anymore?”
Ava’s chest tightened, the words striking her heart like an arrow. She tried to move, tried to say something, but her mouth wouldn’t work.
Her teenage self wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t lost. She wasn’t waiting to be saved. She was here. Present. Real.
And she was speaking to Ava like she had every right to.