I've been kidnapped.
And for a moment… I was excited.
I always thought it might be thrilling—like stepping into a twisted movie. Not everyone gets to say they've been abducted, right? I imagined it would be an experience. Something wild. Something unforgettable.
But now that it's real?
I'm pissed.
Someone else has taken control of my life, even if just for a few minutes. That alone makes my skin crawl. I hate it. I hate not being in control.
Sure, I'm not a psychopath. At least, I don't think I am. So maybe it's normal to feel scared. Annoyed. Trapped. But there's something else too—something darker. A thrill. A pulse of excitement I can't explain.
Is that normal?
Or have I finally absorbed too much from the psychopath I've been stalking?
What if ....I've become like him?
--------------------
Shen Yi jolts awake.
Darkness. Still night.
"A nightmare?" he whispers. But it felt too real. Too vivid.
He scans the room—familiar walls, old furniture. His breath catches.
"This… is our old house?"
The one they left years ago. Before transferring schools. Before everything changed.
A door creaks open.
"Why aren't you asleep yet?" a voice says. "Tomorrow's your first day of high school!"
Shen Yi freezes.
"…Dad?"
His father steps into the room, younger than he remembers. Too young.
"Why are you here?" Shen Yi asks, voice trembling.
From the hallway, his mother's voice calls out, urging him to sleep. His father nods and walks away.
Shen Yi stares at the door, heart pounding. *This can't be real.*
He flicks on the light. The room floods with soft yellow glow. He turns to the mirror.
And sees himself.
But younger.
He sweats profusely. "It should be a dream... why is it so ..?" he stops,
The fear of an unknown situation grapples him. The darkness adds to his fears.
He grabs a glass of water, controls his fast breathing, and drinks the water to calm down.
"Well, this dream is too realistic.
I've had this kind of dreams before. Pain doesn't work as our brain stimulates and copies how we feel during pain in reality in this kind of dreams."
"Logical thinking… numbers… clocks…"
He rushes to the living room. The clock ticks steadily: 2:23 AM.
*It's working. Time is moving.*
He exhales, slower now. "Okay."
Back in his room, he notices the clock beside his bed—he'd forgotten it was there. He tosses it aside, pulls out his Advanced Maths book, and starts solving problems.
Equations. Logic. Control.
The night slips away.
Sunlight creeps through the window. His desk is a mess—papers, scribbles, numbers everywhere.
"Is this… reality?"
He sighs. Long. Deep.
"Maybe I should shower. Look around. Figure out what the hell is going on."