My head throbbed violently, like being hit by a hammer repeatedly. My breath hitched, my eyes trying to adjust to the pitch blackness around me. My body was lying on the hard cold floor.
I felt something strange on my neck-it was rough and painful. My hand came up, touching it gently. A rope? What is this? Why was my neck like this? The pain was real, and the knot marks felt so deep on my skin.
"Where am I...?" I murmured softly. My voice sounded hoarse, unfamiliar, and weak.
I forced my body to move, trying to get up, but the overwhelming dizziness hit me, making me fall back to the floor. My breathing was labored, and my head felt heavier than before.
A foul odor pierced my nose-a musty smell mixed with fish and rotting garbage. My eyes began to open wider, and I looked around me. The small room, almost like a rat's nest, was littered with trash. Empty beer bottles, stale food wrappers, and dirty clothes covered the floor.
"What... is this place?"
I tried to remember what happened. I was in the car... Yuki... the ring... the accident. But this place? It had nothing to do with what happened before.
My hands groped the floor, trying to find something to help me stand. I touched something cold and sharp. Broken glass. Where did this come from? Why is it here?
My head throbbed again, the sharp pain stabbing like a dagger. I held my head with both hands, trying to push the pain away. But at the same time, there was something else-a vague image, as if I had just fallen off something. A chair. A rope. My neck felt strangled again, like the knot was still there.
"I fell...?" I whispered unconsciously. But fell from where? Why couldn't I remember anything?
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to get up even though my body felt weak. My legs trembled as I stood up, but I managed to support my body. I looked around the room again, trying to find something that could give me a clue.
There wasn't. Just chaos and a piercing chill.
I stepped slowly towards the only small light in sight, trying to understand what was going on. But the pain in my neck was getting more and more real, like the rope was still there, haunting my every step.
I continued to walk with unsteady steps, trying to ignore the pain in my head and neck. That rope... what did it mean? Why did it feel so real? Why can't I remember anything other than the accident?
I looked down at my hand that hung limply by my side. The skin was pale, too thin, even the bones on the back of my hand were clearly visible. My fingers were long, but fragile, like they had never been used for anything heavy. This... this is not my hand.
Panic set in. I swallowed, which felt dry as sand.
"This isn't my body..." I whispered. My voice sounded hoarse, almost like someone else's.
I looked down, staring at my own body. The clothes I was wearing... were worn out and smelled bad. A baggy t-shirt with stains of unclear origin. Frayed trousers with rips in several places. My body-dry thinness, almost no muscle.
"What is this?" I held my empty stomach, but it wasn't hunger that confused me. My body felt light, but weak, like it hadn't been properly fed for weeks.
I felt something hard under my feet and looked down. A small chair was lying on its side on the floor, as if it had just fallen over. The legs were cracked, and beside it was a mess of rope.
I bent down, picking up the rope with trembling hands. It felt rough, and there was a faint red stain on the knot. My chest began to pound.
"Why does this feel wrong...? Why do I feel..."
A faint image appeared again in my mind. Someone was standing on the chair, a rope around his neck. There was a stabbing pain in my chest, making me gasp for air. But I couldn't explain what was going on.
I threw the rope to the floor, stepping back with bated breath. My head throbbed worse, as if protesting my being here.
I need an explanation. I need answers.
At the side of the room, I saw a light switch. I crawl slowly towards it, trying not to fall. My fingers touched the switch, and I pressed it. The light flickered a few times before finally turning on, illuminating the room with a gloomy light.
I looked around. The walls were stained, the floor was littered with trash, and the stench was getting stronger. This place was like... a hideout for someone who had given up on life.
My steps dragged towards another wall, where a small mirror hung. The reflection was blurry, cracked in places, but enough to show a reflection.
I approached, my body trembling.
The Face That Wasn't Mine
I stood in front of the mirror, my body stiff as stone. The dim light of the lamp reflected the face of a stranger-a face I had never seen before.
Pale yellowish skin. Tangled black hair with graying strands here and there. Sunken eyes with deep dark circles, like someone who hasn't slept in a long time. A faint scar on the left cheek, and chapped lips with blackened corners.
"That... is not me."
I leaned closer to the mirror, almost expecting the reflection to change. But it didn't. The face remained there. I raised my hand, touching my face-cheek, jaw, chin. Everything felt real. This wasn't a nightmare.
"WHAT HAPPENED?!" I shouted, my voice bouncing around the small room, but there was no answer.
I took a few steps back, my body unsteady, the dizziness coming back. My neck throbbed, the pain from the rope knot reminding me that this was more than just a hallucination.
I tried to think clearly, but nothing made sense. I remembered the accident, my car, Yuki... my life. But now? What's going on? Why am I in someone else's body?
I looked around this room again, trying to find something that could explain this situation. But all I saw was chaos. Scattered trash, empty beer bottles, stale food wrappers... everything pointed to one thing: this was the place of someone who had given up.
"Am I... dead?" I whispered to myself.
No, I'm not. No way. I could still feel the pain, the cold, and my labored breathing. But this... this wasn't my life either. This is not my body.
I felt the pocket of the trousers I was wearing. My hand found something neatly folded-a paper. With trembling hands, I pulled it out and unfolded it.
The handwriting was messy, but clearly legible:
"I'm too weak to continue living. I'm sorry."
I felt my blood freeze. This letter... it's like a farewell letter. From the body I now occupy. From this man. But who is he?
I looked into the mirror again, the unfamiliar face staring back at me with a look of emptiness in its eyes. Then, a small voice, barely audible, whispered behind me:
"Shinichiro Ito... that's you now."