Rhea sat on the edge of her bed, the early morning light slicing through cracked blinds like cold knives. Her head throbbed with the weight of a thousand fractured memories — or maybe just one memory bleeding through twenty-seven lives.
Every whisper in her mind felt like a ghost's voice. Not hers, but somehow hers all the same. She clenched her fists, trying to will the noise away, but the past was loud, insistent.
You've died before. The thought wasn't new. It had been clawing at her brain for weeks now, growing sharper, impossible to ignore.
She pressed her palms to her temples, breathing ragged. The memory flickered — a river she'd never crossed, icy water pulling her under, drowning her in panic and silence.
A drowning girl. A girl with her face.
The phone buzzed on her nightstand, screen glowing with a message: We need to talk. — Isaac.
Rhea sighed, dragging herself out of bed. Isaac was the only one who understood what was happening to her, the only one who remembered his own broken lives like a scar.
Stepping into the gray morning, rain still clinging to the streets, she felt the weight of something dark following her — something old and hungry.
They met in a narrow alley, shadows thick enough to choke on.
"You're slipping," Isaac said, eyes sharp. "The walls between lives are breaking. You remember more every day."
Rhea crossed her arms, skepticism biting her tongue. "Why me? Why now?"
"Because your past self isn't done with you. She's coming back."
Her breath hitched. "Coming back? Like possession?"
Isaac nodded, grave. "Exactly. And she's hungry."
Behind her, the air thickened. Smoke curled and twisted into the shape of a woman — older, crueler, eyes glowing red with malice.
Rhea's heart pounded like a drum in a war zone. Time was running out.
"How do I fight a ghost that's me?" she whispered.
Isaac pulled a small talisman from his pocket — a glowing charm inscribed with ancient symbols.
"This helps contain her… but only for a while."
Her fingers trembled as she took it.
"And when she breaks free?"
Isaac's eyes darkened. "Then we run. Or we fight. And maybe we die trying to end it."
Rhea squared her shoulders. "Then I'm not dying today."
Later that night, walking alone beneath flickering streetlights, the shadows whispered her name.
"I know you're there," she said, voice steady.
Smoke twisted into the familiar face of her past self, grinning cruel and hungry.
"You can't run forever."
Rhea clenched her fists.
"Watch me."