Renee

Fractured Realities

I woke up in a soft, warm bed, sunlight spilling through the window. A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes, but I shook it off. I had felt this way before—like I was waking from a bad dream. But the dream wasn’t the problem; it was the strange sense that something was off, something I couldn’t put my finger on.

I blinked and sat up, the room feeling familiar, yet different. The same cluttered desk, the same worn-out rug, and the same shelves lined with books. But everything felt slightly out of place, like the world was shifted just an inch to the side.

Shaking off the weird feeling, I headed downstairs, hoping a cup of coffee or breakfast would help snap me back into my routine. But as I reached the kitchen, the sight that met me made my heart skip a beat.

My mom was standing there. My mom. She was humming softly as she wiped her hands on a dish towel, her back to me. The sunlight poured in through the window, casting a soft glow around her like some kind of mirage. For a second, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I blinked. Mom?

“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, turning around with a warm smile. She looked so… real. So normal. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath me. My chest tightened, and I couldn’t breathe. It didn’t make sense. My mom had died years ago in a car accident. I had mourned her. This wasn’t real.

I took a step toward her, my legs shaky. “Mom…?” My voice came out barely above a whisper, like I was afraid saying it too loudly would shatter the fragile reality I was in.

She laughed softly, her voice rich with warmth. “What’s wrong? You okay? You’re acting strange today.”

I felt a surge of emotion I couldn’t control. Without thinking, I crossed the room in a few strides and wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder, hoping she would confirm this was real. But she didn’t—she simply held me, her arms tight around me, laughing a little. “Renee, you’re acting like you haven’t seen me in years.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her face, blinking away tears that threatened to spill. "But you’re… you’re dead."

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and the warmth in her voice evaporated. “What? What do you mean, sweetheart? You’re scaring me.”

Before I could respond, I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, light and quick, the scrape of a chair against the floor.

“Morning,” a voice called out casually.

I turned around, my heart pounding. A boy—someone who looked about 15 or 16—walked into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread from the counter as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He bit into it, his eyes flicking to me for just a moment.

“Who are you?” I asked, my voice trembling. My mind was still trying to catch up with the disjointed reality unfolding around me.

The boy froze mid-bite, his eyes narrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, who am I? It’s me, Charles.”

I blinked, my mind racing. “Charles?” My voice was barely above a whisper. The name felt foreign on my tongue.

He put the bread down and looked me over like I was the strange one. “Yeah. Your brother, Charles.”

My heart began to race even faster. This couldn’t be happening. Charles—my younger brother—was supposed to be a memory. My mother had died pregnant with him. There was no way he could be here.

I stepped back, my vision swimming. “No. You’re not real. You can’t be. You weren’t born. You—"

“Renee, stop being ridiculous,” my mom said sharply, cutting me off. “What’s wrong with you? Charles has been with us for 15 years. You’re acting like… like you don’t know him.”

I stumbled back, my mind spinning. This wasn’t my life. This wasn’t my reality. “But… but you—”

She reached for me, but I jerked away, my body trembling. My chest was tight, and I couldn’t breathe. I needed air. “I need to go to school,” I muttered, turning and heading out of the kitchen, the walls closing in around me.

I barely noticed as I grabbed my bag and left the house. I needed to get out of there. I needed to see something familiar, something that could ground me.

When I reached school, everything felt like a haze. I walked through the gates, but the world felt like it was moving too fast around me. The students around me laughed and talked, but their voices felt hollow. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t find anything that felt real.

Where was Clara? Where was anyone I could talk to? My eyes scanned the courtyard, looking for my best friend, but she wasn’t there.

I spotted Kalim by the side of the building. He was standing against the wall, his arms crossed and his face a mask of indifference. I walked over to him, hoping for something familiar.

“Kalim, hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

He looked up, his gaze meeting mine for a brief moment before his eyes glazed over, turning cold. “What do you want?” His tone was flat, dismissive.

I blinked. What was happening? “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

He didn’t respond right away. He just looked at me—really looked at me—before his lips curled into something that might’ve been a sneer. “I don’t have time for this,” he said, turning his back on me. “Leave me alone.”

I froze, feeling the sharp sting of his words. His indifference was cutting. Kalim had always been my best friend now he was nothing more than a stranger.

I stood there, motionless, until the bell rang, signaling the start of the day. But I didn’t feel any relief. The world felt like it was slipping through my fingers, and I didn’t know how to hold on to it.

By the time school ended, I was a mess of confusion. I walked aimlessly through the hallways, trying to piece together some semblance of normalcy, but nothing made sense. I needed to go to the one place that usually calmed my nerves—the restaurant where I worked.

When I arrived, I pushed open the door, the familiar sounds of sizzling food and clinking dishes greeting me. But there was something wrong. The warmth of the place didn’t reach me. It felt off, like I was walking into a place that wasn’t meant for me.

I spotted Joe, the manager, standing behind the counter. I walked up to him, hoping for some recognition.

“Hey, Joe,” I said, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

He glanced up at me, but his face was completely blank. “Sorry, who are you?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “You’re not on the schedule.”

I blinked, stunned. “What do you mean? I work here. I’ve been working here for months.”

Joe shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. You’re not on the schedule today. Maybe you’ve got the wrong day?”

I couldn’t respond. My brain was whirling, everything coming undone in front of me. I stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of his words, but there was no sense to be made.

Finally, I turned and walked out of the restaurant, my chest tight with panic. Who was I anymore? Who was I to these people?

I stumbled through the door when I got home, feeling like I was walking in a fog. My mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of the day. But nothing made sense. My heart felt heavy with confusion.

I sat down on the couch, staring blankly at the wall in front of me, and pulled my phone from my pocket. I needed something to anchor me. Something that wasn’t slipping away.

That’s when I saw it—an unread message from Kara.

The text was simple, but it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“I just need some time. Please understand. I can’t do this right now. Maybe when things calm down, we can talk again.”

I stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. What had happened? Why was she pulling away? Was I the reason?

I put my phone down with a shaky breath. What was happening? Was I losing everything, piece by piece? I didn’t have the answers. I just had questions, and they felt like they were suffocating me.