Date: December 20, 2020
My name is Travis. I am 54 years old, living in England. I have two children: a 24-year-old son and a 28-year-old daughter. My daughter is married, and my son is currently looking for a job. I believe he'll settle down soon, but the thought of being alone after that is haunting. My wife, Sophia, passed away in a car accident several years ago. Life doesn't always go as planned; those who are with you today might not be tomorrow.
That day, I was traveling from London to Westminster to explore a new business opportunity related to woodwork. Though London and Westminster are only 2 km apart, I had to travel another 30 km to meet Jack, my business partner. We had jointly invested $30,000 into this project, and failure was not an option. The forest area began as I drove further, and thoughts about my son's struggle for a job filled my mind. This business venture was meant to support him and secure his future.
The drive felt endless. As I moved through the dimly lit streets, my mind replayed moments of joy and sorrow. The sound of Sophia's laughter still echoed in my ears, a haunting reminder of what I had lost. My children were the only thing keeping me going. The idea of building something from scratch—a business that could provide stability—was the only hope I had left. Jack had been pushing me for months to finalize our plans, and I couldn't delay it any longer. As the trees closed in on either side of the road, I felt a strange mix of determination and dread.
The Accident
By evening, fatigue began to set in. Darkness had fallen, and I had only 15 km left to reach my destination. The hum of the car engine and the monotony of the road were almost hypnotic. As I ascended a flyover, drowsiness took over. Suddenly, my car collided with a truck and veered off the unfinished flyover, plunging straight into the dense jungle below. For a few minutes, I couldn't comprehend what had happened. Airbags deployed, saving me from major injuries, but my hand was bleeding profusely. Struggling, I tried to get out of the car but couldn't.
The moments following the crash were surreal. I could hear the distant chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves, sounds that felt almost mocking in their calmness. My body was in shock, and my mind raced with questions. Was this the end? Would anyone find me here? I thought of my son and daughter, their faces flashing before me like fleeting memories. My daughter's wedding day, my son's first steps—all the moments I had taken for granted now felt like treasures slipping through my fingers.
Soon, I saw an ambulance approaching. Since it wasn't too late at night, help arrived quickly. I heard the siren and felt a faint sense of relief before losing consciousness. I wasn't sure if I was dead or alive. I couldn't open my eyes, hear anything, or feel hunger or thirst. Yet, a flicker of hope persisted—perhaps it was prayers or sheer willpower keeping me alive.
Date: December 21, 2020
A random passerby called the police: "Hello, there's been a car accident. Please come quickly."
At the scene, a bystander remarked, "I don't think he'll survive. Look, his lower body is completely crushed."
The police arrived and cordoned off the area. Officers assessed the scene, their faces grim as they observed the wreckage. "We need to get him to the hospital immediately," one of them said. The medics worked swiftly, their movements precise and mechanical, as though they had done this countless times before. Yet, there was a heaviness in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of the slim chances of survival.
Date: December 25, 2020
At the hospital:
Nurse: "Doctor, the patient from the accident has regained consciousness."
Doctor: "Alright, I'll be there in five minutes. For now, don't let him know that his spine is broken."
Doctor and Travis
Doctor: "Travis, slowly open your eyes."
Travis: "Alright, Doctor."
Doctor: "Do you remember what happened to you?"
Travis: "Yes, I was driving when my car collided with a truck and fell off the flyover."
Doctor: "Good. Do you remember why you were traveling?"
Travis: "I invested $30,000 in a wood business to secure my son's future. I was going to check on the progress. By the way, have my son and daughter come to see me? Where are they? I really want to see them. They must have been worried sick after my accident."
Doctor: "Travis, please calm down and rest. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Travis lay back, his thoughts racing. Why hadn't his children visited? Were they too upset to face him? Or had something happened that he didn't know about? The questions gnawed at him, keeping him awake despite the medication.
The Next Day
Doctor: "Travis, how are you feeling today?"
Travis: "Not comfortable. I can't seem to move."
Doctor: "You'll recover soon. Don't worry. Tell me about your family and where you live."
Travis: "I live at 1-C, 12th Floor, Youk Street, London. It's just me and my son now; my daughter is married. My wife, Sophia, passed away in a car accident in December 2017. Why are you asking?"
Doctor: "Travis, I checked with the police and your workplace. There's no record of you having children or even being married."
Travis: "What nonsense are you talking about? This is absurd!"
Doctor: "1-C, 12th Floor, Youk Street, London—that building collapsed in December 2017. You were trapped there for three years before emerging in 2020. You stole a car and created a narrative about investing $30,000, which never happened. Your name isn't Travis; it's Ethan. Travis was the car owner whose wallet you took. But I'm glad you're alive."
Travis (or Ethan): "No, this can't be true. I am Travis! I have a family. I'm not some thief or imposter."
Doctor: "If that's true, then why is there no proof? Your name is Ethan. What you believe is either loneliness or delusion. Rest now; we'll talk tomorrow."
The Final Morning
Nurse: "Doctor! Come quickly! Ethan is no more. Somehow, he found a blade and slit his throat."
Doctor: "How did this happen?!"
The room was a scene of chaos. Blood pooled on the floor, a stark contrast to the sterile white of the hospital. The staff stood in stunned silence, unable to comprehend how Ethan had managed to end his life. The blade was a mystery, as was the extent of his despair.
Epilogue
Sometimes, loneliness can drive a person to madness. Whether he was Travis or Ethan, he fought to survive, creating a family and a purpose in his mind. But when that illusion was shattered, he chose to leave the world. Perhaps, in his own way, he found peace in the end.
The story of Travis—or Ethan—serves as a haunting reminder of the fragility of the human mind and the lengths to which we go to escape our solitude. His journey, though tragic, was one of survival against insurmountable odds, a battle fought in the shadows of a fractured reality.