The soft light from the lamp illuminated the room as you sat in an armchair next to Tim's bed. He had been unconscious for hours, his face calm, but there was an invisible tension that you always felt when observing him in these situations. Tim, your longtime friend, was a divided soul, caught between two worlds: the man you knew and the entity that dominated him, Masky.

You knew he was going through an internal struggle that no one could see. He seemed calm, but he was like a dormant volcano, always ready to explode. And in the moments when he “passed out”, Masky appeared, a dark and unknown version of Tim, which he never remembered.

The clock on the wall slowly ticked the seconds, each tick increasing the anguish in the room. Tim started to move, frowning. When he opened his eyes, for a brief moment, he seemed disoriented, not knowing where he was. You leaned forward, trying to decipher which version of him had awakened.

He blinked slowly, his eyes clear but filled with deep weariness. "I... blacked out again, didn't I?" He asked, his voice shaking with the familiar mix of fear and resignation.