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“If I had another chance to live…”
In-ear monitors had been part of me for so long that I could instantly recognize the voice shouting in anger as my own. It hit me then that this was all a dream.
“I wouldn’t live the same way again.”
Where I was and who I was yelling at didn’t really matter. My attention was locked on another version of myself, one still marked by burn scars.
Seeing my past self appear like this usually meant one thing—that I was having a terrible nightmare. Even knowing it was just a dream, I felt trapped and was unable to move. It was like the dream wanted me to just watch in silence.
“It’s so unfair. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?”
I wondered who the sobbing, broken version of me was pleading with. My curiosity was tingling, but the dream-like fog dampened the urgency to know.
Then, everything shifted. My past self’s face was buried in my hands, and I suddenly looked up into the void before speaking again. “Alright. I will make the deal.”
A gust of wind swirled...
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