The heavy silence between them pressed down like an uninvited guest, squeezing the air out of the room. Lisa's hands were trembling, though she didn't know if it was from fear or the lingering thrill of their plan taking shape. It was a wild gamble, but in the dim light of the room, it was the only option they had.
Liam stood by the window, his back to her, staring out into the night. He looked every bit the puzzle she couldn't solve—the boy she pulled back from death's grasp, only to realize he might not want to stay.
Lisa swallowed hard, eyes flickering toward him, wondering if he was just as haunted by their situation as she was. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, the room was swallowed by a sudden, sharp sound—a gasp, a half-strangled breath.
Liam's head snapped around, his eyes wide, the blue deep with something unfamiliar. Panic. Fear.
"It's happening again," he whispered, voice raw.
Lisa's heart lurched. The air thickened, the world around them tilting sideways as Liam stumbled back, clutching his head. His body trembled, his face contorted in pain, as though something invisible was clawing its way out from within him. She rushed to his side, her hands outstretched, unsure of what to do, but desperate to help.
"I don't know what's happening, Lisa," he gasped, barely able to form the words. "These... these memories... they're not mine. They're not—" He cut himself off, his body seizing as if the very thought was too much to handle.
Lisa's breath caught in her throat. Not his? Her eyes scanned his face, seeking a clue, anything that might explain the sudden onslaught of terror. She reached out, gripping his arm tightly, grounding him as best she could.
"Liam, what do you mean? What memories?"
The words that followed sent a chill running through her.
"I—I see flashes. I see... death. Mine."
The world seemed to stop, the room frozen in place.
Liam's eyes were unfocused, his breathing shallow and ragged. He looked at her with a kind of desperation that made her blood run cold. "Lisa... I'm dying again."
Lisa felt the ground beneath her feet shift, the very foundation of their reality crumbling in front of her. She could feel her pulse racing, her heart pounding painfully against her chest. Was this some kind of trick? A part of her wanted to scream at him, to demand that he snap out of it. But another part—the deeper, more terrified part—knew he wasn't lying.
Suddenly, Liam's body went still. His eyes glazed over, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to speak but couldn't find the words. Lisa watched, helpless, as his body contorted unnaturally, as if his very soul was being pulled away from him. The air seemed to hum with an electric energy, the room growing colder with each passing second.
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the tension snapped. Liam collapsed into her arms, his body limp. His breath was slow, shallow—almost peaceful.
Lisa held him, her arms tightening around his form, her mind a chaotic swirl of confusion and dread. Was this the end? Had she kept him alive only to lose him again?
And then, like a cruel twist of fate, the flashes returned. Liam jerked in her arms, his voice strained and shaky.
"I... I remember it. The moment I died."
His words were barely a whisper, but they cut through the room like a blade.
"I was... I was drowning. In water, but it wasn't water. It was something darker. Something cold. And then, I was falling... falling through endless darkness. I could feel it—the pressure... the weight. Like the world itself was crushing me. And then, there was a sound. A sickening crack. My bones—shattering..."
Lisa's stomach churned, her breath hitching in her throat. She wanted to stop him, to shut out the memories, but she couldn't. His voice, filled with raw emotion, drew her in like a magnet, pulling her deeper into the abyss of his past.
"The last thing I heard before everything went black..." Liam's voice broke, the tremor in his words sending a shiver down Lisa's spine. "...was a laugh. It wasn't mine. It was someone else's."
The room felt colder, the shadows more pronounced, as though the very walls were pressing in on them. Lisa could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, choking her with their implications.
Who had laughed? Who had caused his death? And why?
The answers were just out of reach, slipping through her fingers like sand.
Lisa's mind spun, torn between wanting to believe him—wanting to trust him—and the growing realization that she might be keeping something alive that wasn't meant to be. That this might be a cycle—an endless loop of pain and death that would never break.
Liam stirred, his face contorted in agony. "I can feel it, Lisa. It's... it's coming back. That voice, that laughter... it's still in my head."
She held him tighter, her body trembling with the weight of his words. "Liam," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. "You're not dying again. You're not—"
But the words felt hollow, even to her. She didn't know what was real anymore.
The laughter... it echoed in her mind. Was it a warning? A sign of something more sinister lurking in the dark corners of Liam's past? Or was it a product of his fractured mind, a twisted memory resurfacing like a ghost from the past?
Lisa pulled away slightly, looking into Liam's eyes. They were wide with fear, but there was something else there too—something that made her heart ache. Desperation.
"I can't keep living like this, Lisa," he muttered, his voice so quiet she barely heard it. "Not if it means dying over and over again. Not if it means being pulled back from the edge only to watch myself slip away again."
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She wanted to argue, to tell him that they would figure it out together. But the truth was, she didn't know how. She didn't know if there even was a way to stop this—whatever this was.
But she couldn't lose him. Not now. Not when she had just begun to understand what it meant to truly care for him.
Liam's body went still again, his breath slow and even, as if the weight of his confession had drained the last of his energy.
Lisa sat beside him, her mind racing. She didn't know how much longer she could keep him alive, how much longer she could carry this burden. But one thing was certain: she couldn't let him go—not like this. Not without a fight.
And as she held him, lost in her own thoughts, a creeping sense of dread began to settle over her. The shadows in the room seemed to grow longer, darker, more sinister. And for the first time in a long while, Lisa couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't alone.
The trap had been set. But who, or what, was the real threat?