Roy closed his locker and slung his bag over his shoulder, his thoughts already drifting to the peace and quiet of home. The dull chatter of students echoed down the hallway, but Roy barely registered it. As he turned to leave, Akhilesh was waiting near the door, his expression shadowed with unease.


    "Hey, Roy," Akhilesh called, his tone unusually serious. "Did you hear what they said this morning? About that psycho on the loose? The cops are saying he’s been spotted in another district."


    Roy paused, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I heard. But that’s not anywhere near where I live, so I’m not losing sleep over it." His voice carried a note of indifference, the kind of dismissive confidence he wore like armor.


    Akhilesh frowned, his concern lingering. "I don’t know, man. Just to be safe, maybe avoid the shortcuts today. Stick to the main streets, yeah?"


    Roy rolled his eyes but smirked faintly, nudging his friend on the shoulder. "Relax, Akhilesh. You sound like my mom. I’ll be fine—probably safer than half the paranoid people freaking out over nothing."


    "Roy," Akhilesh said, his voice firm now. "Just… humor me, alright? Take the long way. It’s not like you’re in a rush, right?"


    Roy let out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. Whatever makes you feel better." He gave a casual wave, turning toward the exit.


    Akhilesh stayed put, still watching him. "Seriously, man. Just be careful."


    Roy glanced back briefly, his smirk returning. "I’ll see you tomorrow."


    As the doors swung shut behind him, the setting sun painted the sky in warm hues, shadows stretching across the pavement. Roy adjusted his bag and took a deep breath, his usual shortcut through the alley calling to him.


    "Take the long way, he says," Roy muttered under his breath with a scoff. "What’s the point of wasting time?" Without another thought, he veered toward the alley, its dim path promising to shave precious minutes off his walk home.


    The bell had rung an hour ago, but the streets around the school still buzzed with life. A group of kids played soccer in a nearby park, their laughter and cheers echoing faintly. Roy walked at his usual, unhurried pace, letting the late afternoon breeze tousle his hair. The sky had started to bleed into hues of orange and pink, the colors dancing on the windows of nearby buildings.


    He passed a convenience store where the smell of fried snacks wafted out, momentarily tempting him to stop and grab a bite. But he shook his head, deciding against it. “Not worth spending what little I have left,” he muttered to himself, clutching his bag tighter.


    As he turned a corner, he noticed an elderly man struggling to load a box into his car. For a brief moment, Roy considered helping but quickly dismissed the thought. "He''ll manage," he mumbled under his breath, quickening his steps. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—it was just easier not to get involved.


    The streets grew quieter as he moved further away from the school and into the more residential areas. He caught sight of a few classmates walking in groups, their chatter filling the silence. A couple waved at him, but Roy merely nodded in acknowledgment, not slowing down.


    His mind drifted back to the conversation with Akhilesh. “Take the longer route, huh?” he muttered, glancing at the main road ahead. It wasn’t that he ignored Akhilesh’s concern—Roy just hated going out of his way for something that seemed unlikely to be a real threat. The warnings felt more like background noise than something to act on.


    As the shortcut came into view, the familiar alley stretched out before him like a dark corridor between two looming buildings. Roy stopped for a moment, staring at the narrow passage. The air felt cooler here, and the shadows seemed deeper. He hesitated briefly, Akhilesh’s words echoing in his mind.


    "Don’t take any shortcuts or anything, alright?"


    Roy smirked to himself, shaking his head. “You worry too much,” he muttered, stepping into the alley. The sound of his sneakers scuffing the pavement seemed unnaturally loud against the silence.


    The world around him felt heavier somehow, as if the air itself had grown thick.


    But he ignored the unease and pressed on.


    Roy adjusted his bag and glanced at the horizon. The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out like grasping fingers. The streets were quiet now, the hum of daily life winding down into an eerie stillness. He turned into a familiar street lined with fading graffiti and broken lampposts, his usual shortcut just a block away.


    A car passed by slowly, its headlights washing over him for a brief moment before disappearing into the distance. He could feel Akhilesh’s words lingering at the back of his mind, but he brushed them off like an annoying fly. "Psycho running around," he thought, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "As if that’d happen to me."


    Turning the corner, Roy’s steps faltered for a moment.


    The alleyway stretched out before him, dim and quiet, flanked by the backs of old buildings. Trash bins overflowed with discarded waste, their contents strewn across the ground. A single, flickering light struggled to stay lit above a metal door far ahead. He hesitated for half a second, feeling a faint prickle of unease crawl up his spine.


    Stop overthinking. It’s just a shortcut, like always. Roy shook his head and stepped into the alley.


    The sound of his sneakers scuffing against the pavement echoed faintly in the stillness. As he walked, he caught the faint sound of footsteps. At first, they blended with his own—too faint to draw concern. But then they grew louder, deliberate, and mismatched with his rhythm.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Roy glanced over his shoulder, his breath hitching. The alley behind him was empty, or at least it seemed that way. Shadows danced in the dim light, but there was no one in sight.


    You''re just imagining things. He shook his head, quickening his pace. The footsteps behind him quickened as well.


    A chill crawled down his neck. He turned sharply, eyes darting from one corner to the next, scanning for any sign of movement. The alley remained silent, still, and devoid of life.


    "Who''s there?" Roy called out, his voice trembling despite his attempt to sound firm.


    No response.


    He cursed under his breath and took a step back, his instincts screaming at him to run. He spun around, only to see a figure emerge from the far end of the alley.


    The man was tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by the low light, but the glint of an axe in his hand was unmistakable. Roy froze, his heart hammering in his chest.


    The man began to walk toward him, slow and deliberate, each step echoing louder than it should.


    "Hey, wait—" Roy stammered, taking a step back. "I don’t want any trouble, alright?"


    The man didn’t answer. He raised the axe, the dim light reflecting off its surface.


    Panic surged through Roy’s veins.


    “Shit, Shit…”


    He turned and bolted, his bag slipping off his shoulder as he ran. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his legs felt like they were made of lead. The footsteps behind him quickened, the sound of heavy boots pounding against the pavement.


    He didn’t get far. A sharp pain exploded in the back of his knee, and he collapsed to the ground with a scream. He turned just in time to see the axe being lifted again.


    "No! Stop!" he cried, his voice breaking.


    The man brought the axe down with terrifying precision, severing Roy’s arm in one swift motion. Pain unlike anything he’d ever felt consumed him, his scream echoing through the alley. Blood pooled around him, warm and sticky.


    He tried to crawl away, his remaining arm clawing at the pavement, but the man was relentless. The axe came down again and again, severing his limbs one by one. The world blurred, the edges of his vision darkening as blood loss and shock took hold.


    Roy’s body trembled from the excruciating pain, his breath shallow and uneven. He stared at the evening sky above, his mind flooded with regret. Every mistake, every missed opportunity, every sin weighed on him like a crushing force.


    I don’t want to die.I don’t want to die. Not like this.I don’t want to die. I don’t... I can’t...


    As his vision began to fade, a figure stepped into view. A woman—beautiful and otherworldly—crouched beside him. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her violet eyes bore into his with an intensity that made his pain momentarily fade. She extended a hand, her fingers brushing his blood-streaked face with surprising gentleness.


    “Do you want to live?” she asked, her voice soft and melodic, yet laced with something sinister.


    Roy tried to speak, but his throat was dry, his voice barely more than a whisper. He mustered all his remaining strength, forcing the word past his trembling lips.


    "I...Want…To…Live…"


    The woman smiled, a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Then live you shall.”


    The last thing Roy saw before darkness consumed him was her smile—a smile that promised salvation and damnation all at once.


    Roy floated in a vast, empty void. No pain, no sound—just an overwhelming stillness that pressed against him like a suffocating blanket. He was sure this was it. The end. Finally. The universe, in its cruel humor, had seen fit to close the book on his pitiful existence.


    “Figures,” he thought bitterly, “that I’d go out in an alley like some stray dog.”


    Then, a sharp jolt coursed through him, like lightning striking his chest. His senses returned all at once—overwhelming, frantic, and unfamiliar.


    His eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air, his body jerking upright as though he’d been drowning moments before. His heart hammered against his ribs, his breath ragged and uneven.


    What—?


    He squinted at his surroundings: smooth, sterile metallic walls, consoles blinking rhythmically, and a faint hum of machinery. The vibration beneath his feet suggested he was somewhere in motion. A dim monitor displayed Earth hanging peacefully in orbit.


    Roy blinked. "Oh, great," he muttered under his breath, voice dry and gravelly. "I’m either in space or I’ve finally snapped. I’ll bet the alley guy hit me hard enough to dislodge reality itself. Classic."


    The memory of his death rushed in like a tidal wave: the alley, the blood, the axe. He clutched his stomach, half-expecting to feel the searing pain. But no, he was intact. Whole. Somehow.


    The momentary relief was drowned in the deluge of questions flooding his mind. How? Why?


    The metallic clang of distant footsteps brought him back to the present. A voice crackled through a nearby comms panel. "Roy? You good?" The speaker sounded concerned. Familiar.


    Roy turned his head slowly, narrowing his eyes at the panel. He didn’t trust familiarity. In his experience, familiarity was a cheap trap. Like an old joke told one too many times—it lost its charm and gained a sinister edge.


    “Roy?” The voice pressed again. "You look pale. What’s going on?"


    A part of him wanted to respond with biting sarcasm—something about being perfectly fine for someone who just woke up in a sterile sci-fi nightmare. But the words stuck in his throat. His thoughts were a tangled web of confusion and quiet panic.


    "What day is it?" His voice came out hoarse, but the question was sharp, demanding.


    A pause. "Mission day 187. Same as yesterday? Roy, are you feeling okay?"


    The response hit him like a sucker punch. Mission day 187. He didn’t remember a single “mission day.” And yet, a faint pressure in the back of his mind whispered otherwise. Echoes of a life he hadn’t lived but somehow knew.


    He looked down at his hands—scarred in ways his old ones hadn’t been. These weren’t his hands. This wasn’t his body. And yet, the memories buried inside him insisted otherwise. Pilot. Researcher. Space station. Black hole.


    “This... this is absurd,” he whispered, a hollow laugh escaping his lips. His voice trembled, but he masked it with a sarcastic edge. “Right. Because waking up in space after dying in an alley makes perfect sense. What’s next, aliens? A time loop? Maybe I’ll get a cool lightsaber if I ask nicely.”


    The voice on the comms interrupted his spiraling thoughts. "Roy? Do you need to sit down? You’re acting weird."


    “I’m fine,” Roy snapped, gripping the console for support. The words tasted like a lie, but what else could he say? That he had apparently hijacked someone else’s life, memories included? Yeah, that’d go over well.


    "Alright," the voice softened. "But seriously, if you need anything—"


    “I’ll let you know,” he cut in, his tone curt. The conversation was grating on his frayed nerves.


    As the comms fell silent, Roy turned toward the window. The black hole loomed in the distance, its event horizon glowing faintly. He stared at it, his reflection faint against the glass. The abyss stared back.


    “This has to be a joke,” he muttered. His voice softened, almost inaudible. “Or a punishment. Maybe I’m already in hell.”


    The memories of the "other Roy" pressed against his mind, unwelcome and intrusive. They made him feel like a thief in someone else’s skin, a pretender in a life he didn’t ask for. The weight of it gnawed at his carefully constructed defenses, the ones that kept the world at arm’s length.


    But he wouldn’t let it show. No. If there was one thing he had mastered, it was keeping people out—keeping himself together long enough to figure things out. He wasn’t about to let the universe, in all its cruel absurdity, get the better of him.


    “This isn’t real,” he said to himself, testing the words. They didn’t ring true, but they were comforting enough. “It’s just another bad joke. One I’ll figure out eventually.”


    He clenched his fists and turned back to the console. If this was some kind of twisted game, then fine. He’d play along. But he’d do it on his terms, not the universe’s.