Chapter 3: Patching Pieces Together Yet I do not Exist (Part 2)

  Daniel wept with his eyes shut, hands still crushing Lily’s throat—until a voice broke through.

  “D… Da… Daniel, let go of me.”

  His eyes snapped open.

  Lily was gone. In her place stood a little girl—golden hair, delicate features, eyes the piercing blue of an endless sea.

  “Sophie!” he gasped.

  His grip loosened instantly. He stumbled back, horrified, then rushed to help her up, brushing black sand from her dress with trembling hands.

  “I didn’t know… I didn’t mean to… Sophie, please—forgive me…” His voice cracked under the weight of desperation.

  If she didn’t forgive him, he would break apart completely.

  But Sophie only tilted her head, eyes soft. “Don’t worry, silly. I know you’d never hurt me.”

  Daniel pulled her into a fierce embrace. For the first time in years, he felt peace—fragile, fleeting, but real. Sophie patted his back gently.

  “I’m here now,” she whispered. “Wipe your tears, Daniel. We don’t have much time. There’s something you need to see.”

  They sat side by side, gazing at the horizon.

  “Do you notice it?” Sophie pointed upward.

  Daniel followed her finger. The sky, once scarred with a few cracks, now split with countless wounds, spreading like shattered glass.

  He swallowed hard. “The scars… there are more of them.”

  Sophie’s eyes locked on his. “Do you know where this is?”

  Daniel froze. Fear flickered across his face. He hadn’t dared to think about it.

  “I… I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

  Sophie’s gaze didn’t waver. Her words came slowly, like a truth too heavy to carry. “You escaped a place you were never meant to leave. And in doing so… you squeezed your soul out of its bounds.”

  She placed a hand over her chest. “Your actions shattered your soul, Daniel. And now… we’re inside the broken pieces of your soul.”

  Daniel’s breath caught. The desert, the violence, the shifting memories—it all made sense now. This wasn’t a place. It was him.

  Sophie rose to her feet and extended a hand toward Daniel, as if offering to help him stand. He hesitated, then took her hand and pulled himself up.

  They stood together, hands still clasped, when Sophie lifted her other arm and pointed to the right. Daniel turned to look.

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  Figures were rising from the sand. Dozens. Men and women. All familiar, like memories refusing to stay buried.

  Their faces were quiet, but their eyes spoke volumes—rage. Each one carried a piece of his past.

  Sophie whispered, almost reverently: “They’ve been waiting for you. After all people you hurt will never forget you, even if they are like devils.”

  “What do I do?” Daniel asked, his voice cracking under the pressure.

  Sophie didn’t flinch. Her tone remained calm, almost cold in its certainty. “I don’t know,” she said. “After all… we are your shattered pieces.” She looked at him—not with judgment, but with something deeper. “Only you know the answer to that.”

  Daniel felt the weight of her words settle into his chest like stone. The figures in the sand kept coming.

  Daniel let go of Sophie’s hand. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the still air. “I just have to beat them, I guess,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

  Then he charged.

  Sophie didn’t follow. She stood where he left her, her face unreadable—except for the flicker of disappointment in her eyes.

  The fight was brutal. Daniel moved like a storm, knocking them down one by one. Dust rose with every blow, every fall. These weren’t just enemies—they were echoes of his own violence, and he met them with more.

  Until only one remained.

  Daniel grabbed the last one by the throat, lifting him high. His other fist clenched, ready to crush—

  Bang.

  A gunshot. The body in his grip went limp, skull pierced clean through.

  Daniel turned back—and saw a person standing beside Sophie.

  It was a mirror. His own reflection twisted and cold. A copy of himself, holding the smoking gun.

  “If you think knocking them out will change anything,” the copy said, voice flat and merciless, “you’re wrong. They’ll keep sinning. Keep hurting. The only way to stop them… is to kill.”

  He stepped forward, eyes locked on Daniel. “You had to kill them just like you killed Oliver.”

  The gun dropped from his hand. Then he charged at Daniel.

  They collided in a storm of fists and fury. Sand flew. Bones cracked. Blow after blow, they traded strikes—rage against regret, instinct against conscience.

  But Daniel was losing.

  The copy moved like a predator, precise and relentless. He drove Daniel back, overwhelmed him, and finally slammed him to the ground. Pinned. Hands wrapped around Daniel’s throat, squeezing.

  The world narrowed to a blur of sky and breathless panic. And the copy leaned in, whispering through clenched teeth:

  “You can’t fight what you are,” the copy hissed.

  Daniel’s vision blurred. Sophie appeared at his side, kneeling calmly. Their eyes met—his wide with panic, hers cool, surgical.

  “How long are you going to ignore it?” she asked softly.

  Daniel’s lips moved, trembling, trying to form the words— “Ignore what?”—but his throat was sealed shut, the pressure unbearable. No sound came out. Just the frantic flicker of his eyes, searching Sophie’s face for mercy, for meaning.

  She leaned closer, her voice steady, almost tender: “You’ve always done what’s best,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his damp forehead, “but never what’s right for you and your broken family.”

  Her words weren’t cruel. They were surgical.

  The copy’s grip tightened, but Daniel’s mind was louder than the choking. Memories surged—his mother, his sister, their condition.

  Sophie didn’t blink. “Tell me, Daniel,” she whispered, “How long are you going to ignore the voice inside of you?”

  Daniel’s fingers twitched. Not in panic. In decision.

  He didn’t need his voice. He needed his will.

  His hand rose slowly, trembling, and gripped the copy’s wrist. Not to pry it away, but to feel it. To acknowledge it. He closed his eyes and spoke in silence: I hear it now.

  The moment Daniel accepted the grip—not as an enemy, but as a mirror—something shifted.

  He absorbed his copy, patching it to himself like a missing piece long denied. The fury, the silence, the weight—it all stitched into his being.

  “I’m glad you figured it out,” Sophie said, her voice laced with quiet joy.

  Daniel rose to his feet and extended his arms wide.

  The collapsed bodies scattered across the sand lifted into the air and flew toward him. As each one reached him, he absorbed it, piece by piece.

  The sky above, once torn, began to heal. Cracks sealed, one by one, until only one remained.

  Daniel lowered his gaze to Sophie, awaiting her word.