The Face That Wasn’t Mine

I woke up feeling… off. My head ached, my throat was dry, and the air felt too heavy, like the room wasn’t mine anymore.

I dragged myself to the bathroom. The light flickered when I switched it on, buzzing faintly.

When I looked in the mirror, I froze.

The face staring back wasn’t mine.

It was close — the same nose, the same eyes — but something was wrong. The skin looked too smooth, too tight, like a mask pulled over a stranger’s skull. The eyes were wrong, too. Darker. Deeper. And they didn’t blink when I did.

I lifted my hand to touch my face. The reflection didn’t move.

It just smiled.

Then, without opening its mouth, it spoke.

"You’re not supposed to be awake yet."


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Catch up👌👌
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