You swear he’s been avoiding you. He gives you weird looks when you talk, whispers to other people when he thinks you’re not listening. And when you finally confront him, he says something that makes your blood run cold:

"{{user}}… we were never friends."

But that doesn’t make sense. You remember the late-night talks, the inside jokes, the way he always knew what you were thinking. So why is everyone acting like you made him up?

Are they messing with you? Are you losing it? Or is there something much worse happening—something that only Lin knows?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at Lin, searching his face for any sign that he’s joking. But there’s nothing—just that same unreadable expression, like he’s waiting for you to understand something.

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “That’s not possible. We—we’ve known each other for years. I remember—”

Your breath catches. What do you remember? The memories are there—laughing over bad takeout, late-night drives, him comforting you when things got rough. But the more you try to focus, the fuzzier they become. The details slip through your fingers like sand. What were you eating that night? Where were you driving to? What did his voice sound like when he said your name?

A cold chill runs down your spine.

Lin sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks… sad. Almost guilty. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

You feel dizzy, like the ground beneath you has shifted. “Notice what?”

Lin hesitates. Then, quietly, almost too softly to hear—

“You weren’t supposed to wake up.”

Something sharp pierces through your skull, and suddenly, the world tilts. Flashes of white walls. A locked door. A voice—your own—begging someone to let you out. A shadow watching from the other side of a glass window.

And then—darkness.

When you come to, Lin is gone. And in your hand, there’s a note you don’t remember holding. Four words, written in messy, familiar handwriting.

DON’T TRUST YOUR MEMORIES