All I know is that it started with a gambling game on my birthday night, A flick of the dice. A bet I should have never made. A man with a knowing smile, like he had already seen how it would end. A moment of hesitation, then nothing.
And then I woke up.
Wearing a name that didn’t feel like mine. My skin was no longer my own, it was written on and marked. The tattoos came before the memories disappeared. Or maybe it was the other way around.
Memories slip through my fingers. Some were stolen. Some I gave away without realizing it, but the real problem isn’t what’s missing but what’s still here, the whispers, the shadows, the feeling that someone is watching from behind my eyes, waiting for me to remember something I was never supposed to forget.
I’m in a city that sounds like it knows something I don’t. The rules were written before I got here. The games never end but I don’t know who wrote them, Some souls know the truth, but they won’t give it away for free.
So I keep moving. Keep searching.
For a way back.
For a way out.
For her.
Whoever she is.
This isn’t a story. This is what’s left of it. What I could remember, what I need to remember before it’s too late.