𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝☆ [Justin Bieber]

𝑰𝑽. 𝑨𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒆𝒔☆

Suddenly, a frail figure emerged from the shadows. She stumbled towards us, her eyes fixed on Justin with an unblinking stare. 

"Who is she?" I asked Justin, but he didn't answer.

Her features were sharp and angular, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, giving her a regal and commanding presence. Her silver hair was long and unkempt. Her eyes were sunken, surrounded by deep wrinkles that spoke of countless years of wisdom. 

We took a step back, in fear, I gripped Justin's hand. 

She was coming towards us, her long and embroidered gown indicating she belonged to the royal family. She reached out a trembling hand, her fingers closing around Justin's arm like a vice. 

"Damion?" she whispered again, her eyes welling up with tears.

"The prophecy is coming true; we'll all be destroyed. Save the prince before he is forgotten! Tell him that grandma loves him."

I felt a chill run down my spine as I watched her, her eyes pleading with Justin as if he were someone she knew intimately. But why? Who was she talking about? Who was Damion?

"Please, don't leave me again." She held Justin's hand.

What if she took him in front of the king?

I followed cautiously.

I felt a surge of pity for her, despite the confusion and fear that still lingered within me. This poor woman was lost in her own memories, convinced that Justin was someone from her past.

She hugged Justin, tears falling from her eyes.

It reminded me of my mother; she, too, would be worried about me. I felt sad.

I realized that my mother wouldn't be worried about me because the clone would've already taken my place and that made me sadder. Nothing would change in the lives of people who knew me, they'll never realize that I'm missing. To them, I'm still with them.

It's funny that I've lost all of them but in their lives I still am there.

I can only hope the new Cassie is a better daughter and a better friend.

"I'm sorry; I'm not your son," he said, his eyes gazing down at her with a mix of pity and compassion.

"Stop playing Damion, your eyes—" she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

"You're my Damion," she said, her voice cracking with hope. "You're my son."

Justin tried to pry himself free, but she held tight.

"You're so much like your father—Alexander. You haven't aged at all. Your mother is tired of waiting for you; please come back home. This is your kingdom. In the greed of power, they'll destroy it all. Stop them, son. You're my brave little boy." She messed hair with love.