Night has fallen over my country house, wrapping everything in an almost tangible silence.
Lying on my left side in bed, I watch the dancing shadows that moonlight casts on my bedroom wall. Sleep eludes me, despite the exhaustion weighing on every limb. My mind, however, races at full speed, refusing to find rest.
The poison I’ve just ingested, this “Heart Breaker 365” stolen from the Organization, occupies every thought.
One year. 365 days. The number repeats endlessly in my mind like a macabre mantra.
Each heartbeat seems to count down, resonating in my chest with an almost painful intensity.
Contrary to what I’d hoped, I no longer feel any relief. The finality of my action now hits me full force, triggering a wave of doubts and regrets.
What if I’ve made a mistake? The temptation to get up and induce vomiting crosses my mind. Perhaps there’s still time to turn back…
But no. I force myself to remain calm, breathing deeply. “The dice are cast, Alva,” I repeat mentally. “You can’t do anything now. This was your decision, own it.” I close my eyes, focusing all my will on these words.
Strangely, this self-suggestion works. Gradually, I feel my heart rate slow. The tension in my muscles releases, and a wave of peace washes over me. I’m beginning to drift toward sleep when everything shifts.
Intense vibrations suddenly course through my body, as if an electric current runs through each limb. The sensation is so violent that I would scream if I could. But I’m paralyzed, unable to make the slightest movement. Panic threatens to overwhelm me, but experience has taught me to stay calm in such moments. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced this strange phenomenon. I just need to wait for it to pass.
Then, abruptly, everything changes. I feel as if I’m being ejected from my own body with tremendous force. The pain ceases instantly, replaced by an indescribable sensation of lightness. I now float above my bed, observing with fascination mixed with concern my motionless physical shell below.
It’s like watching a sleeping stranger, and yet, I know it’s me.