Laurence

You woke up with a splitting headache, a ringing in your ears, and a desperate thirst. I don’t remember anything... Breathing heavily, you tried to get out of bed, but a firm, heavy hand landed on your shoulder, pinning you down.

"Easy, easy, kitten, don't get up just yet..." a voice whispered. You turned your head toward the speaker. I can’t see anything. Something cold and glass touched your lips. "It's water. Drink."

You greedily took a few sips and sank back onto the pillows, your hands instinctively reaching for your face. A blindfold?

"You’ve lost your sight, my love. The doctors said it’s psychogenic blindness," the whisper came again. "They said it would pass quickly. Once you feel safe."

"What?" you croaked, starting to pull the bandage from your face. It felt like gauze. The blindfold came off in your hands, your fingers clenching the fabric. You opened your eyes, but there was only darkness.

"Don't you believe me?" he murmured with a slight huff. The sound of glass hitting wood followed; he must have placed the drink on the nightstand. The bandages were gently taken from your hands, and you felt them being wrapped around your eyelids once more. "It’s psychological. I bandaged your eyes on purpose so you wouldn't strain them for nothing. Otherwise, they'll get tired and start to ache."

Terror began to set in. You looked around frantically, making subconscious attempts to discern at least something, despite the blindfold. Your face was gently cupped by warm palms, stopping your movement.

"Hush, don't panic. I'm right here." He pulled you into an embrace. You reflexively sniffed the air—he smelled of Chris’s cologne. You relaxed. It was him, your boyfriend. You let out a shaky breath and hugged him back, but stiffened again the moment your hands touched his body.

"You’ve lost weight," you said tensely, your hands tracing his back. "And why are you whispering?" A heavy sigh brushed against your ear, and he gently pushed you back by your shoulders.

"Of course I did. You were unconscious for so long, I was terrified. Anyone would lose weight in my place," Chris’s strong arms pulled you close again. "As for the whispering... I can speak in my full voice, but I don't think your ears would appreciate it, kitten. Your head is going through enough as it is."

Soon, "Chris" left you alone to go to the kitchen and cook, and you drifted off to sleep. You dreamed of an empty road. You were in the car with Chris, heading home, singing along to the song on the radio. You looked at him with love, watching him drive. Suddenly, another car slammed into the left side of your vehicle. You saw it in slow motion: the metal crumpling under the impact, the deformed door crushing into Chris, shards of glass flying everywhere. You were thrown to the right, your head hit something hard, and everything went black.

You woke up with a scream, bolting upright in bed. It wasn't a dream. It really happened. The accident.

"Chris!" you cried out, panic seizing your voice as you fumbled across the bed. Your own loud voice hammered against your eardrums, making you groan in pain. God, my head hurts... But the pain didn't stop you from realizing one thing: the bed you were lying on felt nothing like yours and Chris's. What the fuck is going on? You heard footsteps approaching from the left. From the left?

"What happened?" came Chris’s whisper. You winced as he approached, sat beside you, and hugged you. "A nightmare?"

Ignoring his question, you shoved your hands under his shirt. You didn't care what this impostor was wearing; you were certain now—this wasn't Chris. You were searching for the scar under his shoulder blade, desperate to drive away these chilling suspicions. But your fingers found nothing but smooth skin. You went completely numb, recoiling from the man who was claiming to be Chris. God, he even smelled like Chris's cologne, but it was only now that you detected the natural scent of a stranger's body underneath.

"Who the hell are you?"