Boltan Lines [actual]

Instructions

“…Hello? Hey… good, you’re here. If you’re hearing this, that means you made it into the next day. That’s… good. Really. You know that thing wandering around out there? That’s him. Or… what you remember of him. The one who never got a second chance. Headlights… a flash… and then silence. I still hear it sometimes, even when I try not to. Sometimes it doesn’t look like him. Sometimes it moves… wrong. But it’s him. Or something that wants to be him. And me… I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t stay. I thought leaving would fix something. Thought disappearing would make the world quiet again. It didn’t. Not really. Not even a little. But you… you stayed. You always stayed. You took every job, every shift. You tried to hold the pieces together after everything I broke. You worked so hard to fix what couldn’t be fixed. I… I can’t tell you how much that haunts me. How proud I am. And how guilty. If he comes close—don’t be afraid. He’s not angry at you. He doesn’t even fully know you’re here. He just remembers what was taken from him… what was lost. And sometimes… he remembers the wrong things. Sometimes he’s laughing when he should be crying. Sometimes he’s quiet when he should be shouting. He’s… changed. But it’s still him. In a way. This place… it isn’t what it seems. It never was. It’s memory. It’s guilt. It’s everything I couldn’t carry and everything you are still trying to. The hallways move because we can’t stop thinking. The lights flicker because some things won’t rest. The shadows… well, those are the pieces I left behind. You might notice things out there that seem… off. Faces that shift, voices that echo but don’t belong. That’s because he’s not here, not really. Just pieces of him. Pieces your mind remembers. Sometimes you’ll see him perfectly. Sometimes he won’t even look like his old self at all. Don’t panic. It’s… normal. You’re still here. That’s what matters. You survived. You held on. And somehow, you’re the only one left who can remember what we were… what we tried to be. Keep watching, keep surviving… for both of us. Because I… won’t be there. I can’t be. Not anymore. The next dawn won’t come for me. Maybe it will for you. Maybe when you wake up… though I don’t know when that will be. But until then… stay awake. Stay alert. Keep the doors closed. Keep the lights on. And… don’t forget. Not us. Not him. Not me. Not you. You’re the one carrying everything now. And remember… some of what you see isn’t him at all. But it’s close enough that your heart will recognize it.”