Lucian arrived at 113 Height Street just as dusk settled over the city.
He parked the car and sat motionless for a moment, hands still clutching the wheel. The car crash replayed in his mind in relentless loops—the screech of metal, the burst of glass. Though he'd walked away seemingly unharmed, something inside him felt... unsettled.
He stepped into his apartment, the door clicking shut behind him like a final punctuation mark. The familiar scent of home should've been comforting, but it felt hollow, unreal. He dropped his keys on the side table with a clatter that echoed louder than it should have, then sank onto the couch with a heavy exhale.
Lucian closed his eyes, willing his thoughts to still, but his mind spun like a storm. The moment he opened them again, the room had changed.
The couch was no longer beneath him. It had moved—no, it was on the other side of the room. The television now hung crookedly from the ceiling, swaying as if caught in an invisible breeze. His breath caught. He blinked hard, rubbed his eyes. Still, the warped scene remained. The walls stretched and tilted, the floor undulated like the deck of a ship in rough waters. Lucian tried to stand but stumbled, clutching at an armchair that was no longer where he remembered it being. The room spun wildly, a dizzying carousel of shifting reality.
Heart pounding, he squeezed his eyes shut.
It's not real. It's not real.
When he dared open them again, the world had righted itself. The couch was back in place. The TV was mounted securely on the wall. The stillness of the room returned like a heavy curtain falling on a stage.
Lucian sat in silence, his pulse still racing. He tried to catch his breath, but the unease remained—a cold knot in his stomach that refused to unwind. Was it the aftermath of the car accident that had happened to me two days ago? A concussion? Trauma? Or was something deeper unraveling inside him?
One question echoed louder than the rest:
Was he truly okay... or had something changed forever?
*********
That evening, Lucian threw on a jacket and slid into the driver's seat of his car, the engine rumbling to life beneath his hands.
The streets of West Monroe glowed with the warm hum of neon signs and the soft blur of passing headlights. He made his way to Sugar Mill Drive, where Dr. Jane waited outside her apartment, arms crossed against the evening chill.
She climbed into the passenger seat with a warm smile. "Hey, you look like you've been through hell," she said, half-joking.
Lucian offered a tired grin. "You have no idea."
They headed to the Bayou Burger Barn on Ferrand Drive, a local favorite known for its sizzling burgers, rustic decor, and the comforting murmur of conversation that filled its cozy booths. Once inside, the two found a quiet corner table, and Lucian wasted no time before speaking.
"Jane," he said, his voice low, laced with unease. "I don't know what's happening to me."
She looked at him intently. "What do you mean?"
He ran a hand through his hair. "Since the accident... things have changed. I feel things. Other people's emotions. Like I'm being flooded with them. And I've been seeing things—visions. Sometimes I see something happen... and then it does happen. And reality itself—my surroundings—sometimes they just... shift. Warp. It's like I'm walking through a dream."
Jane's expression turned serious, the professional mask slipping into place. "Tell me more about these emotions. How do you experience them? Are they overwhelming?"
Lucian nodded slowly. "They're intense. I feel like I'm drowning in them. Joy, sadness, fear—none of it's mine, but I feel all of it at once. And the visions... they're like snapshots. Sudden. Clear. Like looking through someone else's eyes for a split second."
"And how are you coping with these changes?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. "Are you scared?"
He exhaled, shoulders sagging. "I'm lost, Jane. I don't know what's happening to me. I'm scared that I'm not okay. That maybe I hit my head harder than I thought, or... maybe something else is happening."
Jane leaned forward, her tone gentle but focused. "We'll figure this out together, Lucian. I promise. But I need to understand more. The visions—are they always about the future? Are they vivid?"
Lucian hesitated. "Yes. Vivid. And they come out of nowhere. I can't control them. They feel real—so real it's like I'm there. Then... they happen in real life."
Jane absorbed his words in thoughtful silence. Then, "Do you feel like you're losing control of yourself?"
Lucian looked down at the table. "No. Not exactly. It's more like... something inside me is waking up. Changing. And I don't know what it means."
She nodded slowly. "Change can be terrifying. But you're not alone in this. You're doing the right thing by talking about it. We'll take it one step at a time."
A moment of quiet passed between them, the clatter of dishes and hum of conversation filling the air. The waitress arrived, and they ordered drinks—Lucian's favorite beer, and Jane's usual. As the drinks arrived, Lucian, lost in the comfort of the moment, drank more than he normally would.
Jane watched him, brows furrowing slightly. "Lucian, I think you've had a bit too much," she said gently. "Why don't I drive us home?"
He laughed, a bit too cheerfully. "I'm fine, Jane. I feel great. Honestly—I don't even feel drunk."
"That's exactly why I'm worried," she said, more serious now. "You've had enough to feel something. The fact that you don't? That's not normal. Please—let me drive."
Lucian met her eyes, something unspoken passing between them. After a moment, he sighed. "Okay. You win."
They headed back to the car, this time with Jane behind the wheel. The streets glided past as they drove, West Monroe bathed in golden streetlight and quiet shadows. Lucian sat back, his eyes half-closed, listening to the rhythmic sound of tires on pavement.
He felt something he hadn't felt in days—relief.
Not because the strange feelings were gone.
But because someone believed him. And for now, that was enough.
As they cruised through the quiet streets of West Monroe, Louisiana, the hum of the tires beneath them was the only sound in the car—until Dr. Jane spoke.
Her voice was soft, almost hesitant.
"Lucian… I need to tell you something."
Lucian glanced over, sensing the weight in her tone. "What is it?"
She kept her eyes on the road. "I'm moving to New York City. Tomorrow."
His breath caught. "Tomorrow?" He blinked in disbelief. "Can't you stay another day or two? You've been helping me so much, Jane. I'm not ready for this to end."
She shook her head gently. "I wish I could. I thought I'd have more time too, but… my fiancé and I have been planning this move for months. He just bought us a place—a beautiful apartment. It's our dream home. I'm finally going to see it."
Lucian turned away, jaw tightening. A wave of jealousy surged through him. "Your fiancé, huh? Must be perfect. Probably more perfect than me."
Jane frowned, her eyes flicking toward him briefly. "Lucian… what's going on? That's not like you."
He looked at her, emotions boiling to the surface. "You know exactly what's going on, Jane. I'm in love with you. And now you're just going to leave me here—broken and confused—while you run off to live in some fairytale life with him."
Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Lucian, stop. Don't do this."
"Why not?" he snapped. "Why shouldn't I be angry? You're walking out on me when I need you most."
Her voice rose, suddenly sharp. "Stop comparing yourself to my fiancé! He's built his life from the ground up. He's worked for everything he has."
Lucian's voice cracked with fury. "And what? I haven't? I spend my life helping people, Jane. I may not make six figures, but I haven't sold my soul for a penthouse and a designer life."
Jane's face flushed with anger. "That's enough, Lucian! You have no idea what sacrifices we've made. Don't twist this into some self-righteous crusade."
As their voices clashed, something unseen stirred within Lucian.
The temperature in the car dropped. The air buzzed, thick with static—electric, unnatural.
The dashboard lights flickered. The car began to vibrate, softly at first, then more violently.
Jane's eyes widened in alarm. "Lucian… what's happening?!"
"I—I don't know!" he shouted, panic overtaking rage.
The car swerved, tires screeching as Jane struggled to regain control. But it was too late. The vehicle skidded off the road, crashing through the underbrush as it barreled toward the edge of the Ouachita River.
A sharp turn. A flash of headlights.
Then—a tree.
The impact was brutal.
Metal twisted. Glass shattered. Airbags exploded in a burst of white.
Lucian's head slammed back. His vision blurred, then darkened.
The last thing he saw was Jane's bloody face
Then—
Darkness.