The Stranger in My Photos 40 The world didn’t go black. It went white — blinding and endless. Like I’d stepped into a place where light wasn’t meant to exist. I wasn’t standing anymore. I wasn’t even sure if I had a body. I blinked, or maybe I didn’t. My mind felt disconnected, floating. The only sound was a faint hum, like static from an old TV. Then, a voice. Not mine. Not the stranger’s. Something… worse. "You're not supposed to be here." The light twisted. It wasn’t white anymore — it pulsed, flickering between shapes and colors I didn’t recognize. I felt something — a pull, deep in my chest. Like a rope tied around my soul, tugging me forward. I tried to resist. It didn’t matter. The light split apart, tearing open like a curtain, and I fell through. I hit cold, hard ground. My lungs burned like I’d been holding my breath for hours. I was back in my room. Except… it wasn’t my room. The walls were the same color, but the posters were wrong. My desk wasn’t mine. The photos on the nightstand weren’t of my family — they weren’t of anyone I knew. My phone was gone. And sitting on the edge of my bed was the other me. It smiled, tilting its head like always. “You made it
The Stranger In My Photos 41 🤔🤔