Something in his head skips back through the haze of static, stitching together memories in fragmented pieces. Concrete split by gnarled roots, branches silhouetted against an orange sky. Where's the camera? Feeling himself sink, clutching his side as the water fills his lungs. A moment of quiet, somewhere familiar, dripping lakewater onto the carpet. He'd come back. He'd come back soon, the filthy liar, and he'd help him to his feet, and they'd run.
"I was there. I was back. I remember, I--"
But that wasn't really Tim's house, was it? Not with the way it slipped at the edges of his vision, not with the way the trees grew right up to the window.
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He was gone because that thing--
Something in his head skips back through the haze of static, stitching together memories in fragmented pieces. Concrete split by gnarled roots, branches silhouetted against an orange sky. Where's the camera? Feeling himself sink, clutching his side as the water fills his lungs. A moment of quiet, somewhere familiar, dripping lakewater onto the carpet. He'd come back. He'd come back soon, the filthy liar, and he'd help him to his feet, and they'd run.
"I was there. I was back. I remember, I--"
But that wasn't really Tim's house, was it? Not with the way it slipped at the edges of his vision, not with the way the trees grew right up to the window.
He doesn't remember anything after that.