The morning came as it always did, uninvited and indifferent."Who said that!?" Newt whipped his head around, his heart pounding. "Hello? Is someone there?"He rolled out of bed, his limbs heavy with the familiar lethargy that clung to him like a second skin."What the hell?" Newt muttered, freezing mid-motion. His breath hitched as the words continued, steady and unwavering, yet seeming to come from nowhere.He stumbled into his routine—teeth brushed, coffee brewed, blinds adjusted to let in just enough light to make the space feel less oppressive."This isn't real. This isn't happening," Newt whispered, clutching the edge of the kitchen counter. His hands shook as he stared into the steam rising from his coffee mug.By mid-morning, he was back on the couch, laptop perched on his knees, trying to convince himself to work on something—anything. But his mind kept drifting, drawn back to the strange feeling that had crept into his room like an uninvited guest."No! Stop!" Newt shouted, slamming the laptop shut and tossing it aside. "Who's doing this? Who's saying that?"He glanced around the room, his heart hammering in his chest. The coffee mug on the table was still steaming, the blinds half-drawn, casting fragmented shadows across the walls. But he saw no one.Newt's breathing quickened. "Am I losing it? Is this... some kind of breakdown?"He told himself it wasn't real, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But deep down, he knew better."No, no, no! Shut up! Whoever you are, just shut up!" Newt shouted, clutching his head.His reaction was predictable. Fear. Confusion. Denial. All the classic steps.Newt bolted upright, his eyes wild. "This can't be happening. I—I need air."He yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway. The sterile light of the corridor felt alien, almost hostile, but at least it was real. Or so he hoped.Running won't help.Newt froze mid-step. "Oh, come on!" He spun around, slamming the door shut behind him. His back pressed against it as his chest heaved. "What do you want from me?"Silence. And then:Why not you?Newt slid to the floor; his knees pulled to his chest. His mind raced, grasping for answers. Was this a prank? Some elaborate trick? Or was he..."Losing my mind," he finished aloud, his voice barely a whisper.And as he sat there, trying to shut out the impossible, the undeniable truth began to take root in his mind. This was only the beginning.The next few minutes passed in silence, save for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. Newt's knees ached against the cold floor, but he didn't move. Finally, with a shaky breath, he pushed himself up and stumbled toward the door."If this is some twisted joke, I'm going to find out who's behind it," he muttered under his breath.He opened the door again, squinting as the sunlight from the corridor windows poured into his eyes. For the first time in what felt like weeks—maybe months—Newt stepped outside. The air was sharp and bracing, filling his lungs with an intensity he wasn't used to anymore."Newt hadn't left his apartment in so long that even the sound of the wind felt unfamiliar.""Okay, stop that!" Newt growled at the open air, his voice startling a passerby, who gave him a wide berth. He ignored them, focusing instead on the feeling of the pavement beneath his shoes. Every step felt like walking into an alien world.The street was alive with activity. Cars rushed past, honking impatiently. A dog barked in the distance. A group of teenagers laughed loudly on the corner. It all felt overwhelming, like the volume of life had been dialed up to eleven."This isn't happening," he whispered to himself, ducking into an alley to escape the noise. He leaned against the brick wall, taking deep breaths to steady his racing heart."Newt was overwhelmed, his senses assaulted by the vibrancy of the outside world.""I know that!" he snapped. "You don't have to narrate everything!"For a moment, there was silence, and Newt almost believed the voice had finally left him. But then:"He thought he had escaped it.""Oh, for..." Newt groaned, covering his face with his hands. "What do you want from me? Just say it already!"The voice didn't respond. Instead, it simply narrated his frustration, his growing desperation, as if it were savoring the moment. Newt's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms."Fine," he hissed. "You want me to play along? I'll play along. But I swear, if this is some cosmic joke, I'm going to find a way to punch you."With that, Newt straightened up and stepped out of the alley. The sun was brighter now, high in the sky, and the world around him continued on, oblivious to the strange battle he was fighting within himself. Each step he took felt heavier, as though the weight of being watched—being narrated—was pressing down on him.But for the first time, he was outside. And for the first time, he felt like something was about to change.