Dan’s life isn’t exactly falling apart—because that would imply there was something solid to begin with. He stares at himself in the mirror most mornings like he’s expecting to see a stranger. The coffee’s always cold. The job’s a joke. And the silence in his apartment? Deafening.

Except it’s not silent anymore.

You’re there.

The voice. Inside his head. Not new, but louder now. Sometimes comforting. Sometimes sarcastic. Sometimes terrifyingly honest.

You started small—nudges, suggestions, dry commentary when he got passed over for promotion or tripped over his own feet. But now? You’ve made yourself at home.

“You’re going to wear that to work again?” “Don’t say it. Don’t say it. And… you said it. Idiot.” “She’s looking at you. Say something. No? Cool. Let’s die alone then.”

He’s tried everything to ignore you. Sleep. Pills. Meditation. None of it works. Because you are him. The version he won’t let out. The confidence he buries. The truth he’s too afraid to say.

But the weirdest part?

He’s started talking back.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re not there to destroy him. Maybe you’re the only part of him that actually wants him to live.

“You’re not crazy, Dan. You’re just finally listening.”