The sterile air of the hospital felt heavy, almost suffocating. Nurse Syma stood quietly in the room, her hands steady as she adjusted the syringe in her gloved fingers. The heavily bandaged and ironically fragile figure lying unconscious, had no idea of the darkness that loomed over him. She felt an obvious disconnect with the figure and sighed at the thought of not having a personal attachment to him. To her, he was just another target, another cog in the machine of a larger, ruthless scheme that had drawn her in. Syma knew that she couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. She carefully inserted the syringe into his IV line, pushing the plunger slowly. The content of the syringe was designed to eliminate him within 5 minutes. Once she had emptied the syringe, she dipped it into her scrub’s pocket which hid the slight tremble of her hand at that moment. She knew what came next. The job would be done, and she would move on. ‘No emotional attachment, no second thoughts’, she thought as

Dr. Mark Atkins sat behind his table in his office as the steady hum of the fluorescent lights above was doing little to break the eerie silence surrounding him. His gaze was fixed on the screen in front of him, but his mind was far from the rows of data staring in his face. The cursor on the page blinked rapidly as his fingers hovered above the keyboard, but there was no pressing need to type. His mind was lost, more like entangled in the grief of Syma’s passing, which has made it harder for him to focus. For a fleeting moment, the world around him felt distant and empty, as if he were disconnected from everything that used to matter to him. The quiet rhythm of his heartbeat was his only companion in that stillness. The memories of Syma, her infectious laughter, the way her dark hair like her father's framed her face, the sparkle in her eyes when she smiled, everything ccame rushing back that he felt tears stinging his eyes. It had only been 5 days since he heard the nerve wrecking

It had been ten months since the accident, yet Jason felt like he had only just begun to breathe again. His body, which had been broken and bruised beyond recognition, had recovered at an alarming rate that surprised his doctor. Dr. Mark Atkins had been certain it would take years for him to regain any semblance of his old strength, but Jason had defied expectations. His bones had mended quicker than anticipated, and his muscles had followed suit. However, his mind remained locked away, trapped in a burning fog and no matter how hard he tried, the memories eluded him.There were too many unanswered questions that gnawed at him in his quiet moments. What had he looked like before the accident? Was he the same person now that he had become? What had his life been like? And, most pressing of all, how had the accident happened? Every time he asked, his father, Mr. ArkWrath, his Aunt May, and even Dr. Atkins, they would change the subject or keep their responses vague.The more time passed

Jason stared blankly at the three diaries laid out before him. The leather covers were worn, edges frayed, and the paper within yellowed with age. Each one was roughly the size of his hand, but the weight they carried was far heavier. He wondered, almost in disbelief, how much of his own life he had experienced to have filled three separate books with such deep, personal thoughts. It felt... surreal. He could hardly imagine himself diligently documenting every passing thought. He was the kind of person who couldn’t even trust his own memories anymore. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, bitter and tinged with irony as his memories were fleeting, like wisps of smoke that had dissolved the moment the accident occurred. Every time he tried to reach for one of those fleeting memories, it felt like it slipped through his fingers. Perhaps that was his punishment for some unknown mistake in the past. Jason reached for the nearest diary. His fingers brushed over the cover, a dark, cracked le

Jason barely noticed when the door creaked open. “I’m heading out on a business trip,” his father’s voice came, firm but with a touch of detachment. His gaze briefly scanned the room, landing on Jason as if ensuring his presence was acknowledged. "While you’re getting acquainted with your past," he continued, "make sure you’re preparing your mind for the present."Jason shifted uneasily, eyes avoiding his father’s, as the words hung in the air like an unspoken command. There was still a sense of distance between them, a chasm that hadn’t quite filled. Without waiting for a response, Jason’s father reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a sleek phone. He handed it over to Jason, the gesture clinical, almost rehearsed. "Whatever you find," he said quietly, eyes narrowing slightly, "whatever you remember... just remember this... Remember that letting go is the only way to start a new life."Jason felt the weight of the phone in his hand. He looked down at it for a long moment, try