As my eyes blinked open, I felt this slight sharp pain on the back of my head. The surroundings were blurry, and I could hear slight muffled voices at the front seats. I rubbed my eyes gently, but it was still quite blurry. Just black shadows cast at the front and yellow lights shining into the car. I tried to look around for a sign of glasses, and there, on the other seat, sat a pair of black glasses. I picked it up and put them on.

There were two men at the front, chatting distinctly. They wore those clothes we’d see in the 1890s. I tried not to make a sound to not attract attention. It felt different, but real. So real. I was a man myself. A grown up adult in black. My hands were trembling, and that’s when I realised the dried blood stains on my hand. I looked around myself, but the thing is, I wasn’t hurt. No marks, no scratches, no burns, no stitches, just dried blood stains on my trembling hands.

They weren’t mine.

‘We’re not done yet.’ I heard the left men say. His voice was low, real low. And then there was a moment of silence, or maybe I just couldn’t make out what they were saying. I looked out of the window, and I could see the car turning into another lane. It felt like I’ve been here before, but I just couldn’t make out when, or where.

Who were these people?

I know I’ve seen them…

But I haven’t.

They were all just new people I haven’t met… and also.. not.

The next thing I knew, the driver had lost control of the steering wheel. The man gripped tightly on the wheel and tried to stable it, but it looked impossible and the car just kept spinning. My head felt dizzy from the spinning, my heart was beating faster than ever, and I found myself screaming, ‘Mitchael, look out!’ I saw a black tree.. or maybe it was a human.. but my head was spinning a lot, I couldn’t make out what it was, and before the car hit the tree, I fainted.

Right after, I opened my eyes once more. This time, I was on the bed in my room. Cold sweat trickled down my spine. I couldn’t breath properly. My breathing was quick, I couldn’t quite catch it, and my heart was beating too fast, I grabbed hard on my chest. I felt hopeless.

Who is Mitchael?

It felt so real - the car spinning, the slight pain in my head, the lights and the voices. But it couldn’t have been. I could remember it vividly on the back of my mind. Replay that over and over again. It just felt different. Weird… Where and when have I done this? It wasn’t me. I don’t wear glasses. I don’t wear black. I’m not a full grown adult. And I don’t kill. It felt awfully real, and it burns myself to see me in that car, dying in a car crash.

Like.. I’ve been there.