Replay {Skephalo}

6 | Backstabbed

. * •. You never know what's real... • . . * •

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Bit of an unusual chapter, (also a little shorter, just under 1000 words compared to the usual 2000!) but I found it fun to write. Felt like it was necessary to convey some missing information.
Enjoy, love ya <3 ~ Owl

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I woke up in a pale blue room, my bedroom, to be exact. I don't remember being here.

What day is it?

My calendar is hanging on the wall above my desk. It always used to hit my computer when I was playing, so I moved it.

I moved it.

Why is it there then?

The calendar reads off 'January 17th'

January seventeenth, the year of my fifteenth birthday. I'm seventeen now.

What is going on?

This has to be a dream.

The edges of my vision blur, my eyes closing themselves as I fall off my bed I threw out a year ago and black out.

~~~

My vision returns in time for me to watch myself fall off the bed, except it isn't me. It is me, I can tell. They look identical to me. Well, identical to me when I was fifteen, but I'm not them. It's like watching in the view of someone else, like watching through a camera lens in the corner of my room.

I have to be dreaming.

'I' pick myself up off the floor and turn to the calendar, watching myself realise it's my fifteenth birthday. I feel like I remember this.

Young Zak starts jumping around his room excitedly, not caring as the sleeves of the hoodie he's wearing, which I'm still wearing now, flip up to reveal the marks on his wrists. There's still a lot of marks, some looking fresh, but so few in comparison to how many I have now. I push up the sleeves of my hoodie for comparison, only to find they're wrapped up in bandages.

How did that happen?

I clawed at the bandages, tearing through a layer on my left wrist before invisible hands wrap around my forearms, pulling my hands away.

My younger self has stopped jumping around, hearing a phone buzz coming from their bed. I miss these days, the ones when I was happier and smiles weren't faked as often. Judging from my wrists though, there was still some trauma in these days.

Is this even real?

My younger self fetches their phone from under the bedsheets and scrolls through some messages, their smile widening further. I will myself to move, pushing against invisible restraints to see who 'I'm' texting. The restraint doesn't move, instead it pushes harder, as the weight strengthens on my shoulders, like somebody is holding me down.

Young Zak throws his phone back on the bed as he searched through his wardrobe for presumably something to wear.

Or for the box, I think it was still in my wardrobe at that time.

I can just about make out the text messages on 'my' phone. They seem to be from someone who's name begins with a 'Z'. It has to be Zelk.

That didn't make any sense. If Zelk was texting 'me', why was 'I' smiling? Zelk texting me only meant he was telling me about his next party I was forced to show up to.

Some images flash through my head of a broken bottle and a bloodied version of Vincent, his face swollen. I hear sirens in the background, seeming to be getting closer.

This isn't real.

I force myself to draw my attention back to my younger self, who seems to have changed and moved back to his phone. He picks it up before rolling back onto his bed, bringing his legs up to his stomach. The phone starts ringing.

Maybe I'll get some insight into what's going on.

I watch my younger self smile eagerly at his phone as it rings. A weak smile spreads across my face as he pulls the phone closer to his face, then realises his wrists start showing from the movement and he anxiously lowers his arms again. The phone stops buzzing.

"Yo Zakky! Happy B-day bro!"

It's definitely Zelkam.

"You ready to go out? I have your birthday all planned for ya!" he says, my younger version's eyes lighting up at the words.

"Hell yeah!" younger Zak yells, jumping out of bed and dashing out of his bedroom door, phone in hand.

I feel like I remember this happening before. My vision blurs again, the world turning grey as I collapse onto the bedroom floor.

~~~

I wake up looking through my own eyes at a scene I could never forget. I've definitely ended up here before in my dreams.

This one is real.

I don't want to watch this scene again, I remember everything that happens. I could never forget.

The look on Zelkam's face is always the same as he stares down at my battered wrists on the rooftop of his house, the same house I now dread. So is the smile as he pulls me into a tight hug, telling me it'll be okay.

'I'll help you'

'It'll be okay now'

'We'll get through this together'

Backstabbed. I was backstabbed by the person I used to call my best friend. I told him my secret, trusted him with it. Thought he'd help me, that I wouldn't regret it. This is the day that would ruin me.

This is why I can't tell Darryl, why I can't tell Vincent, it's why they can't know. My best friend from long ago became my enemy and betrayed my trust. He uses that secret against me to get what he wants. How can Darryl and Vincent be any different?

He won't be, and that's not a problem, because I'll never make that same mistake again. He'll never find out.

The world fades into black as I utter those words over and over again.

He'll never find out.

I won't be backstabbed again.