The Midnight Train

9:

Lydia sat on the couch, staring at the door. It had been over an hour since Nolan had left. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in on her with each passing minute. She had tried to distract herself, flipping through the few books lying around, even pacing the length of the room, but nothing held her interest. A restless energy buzzed inside her, and her mind kept drifting back to one thing: Nolan's laptop.

She had noticed it when he left, sitting innocently on the dining table, the same laptop he had spent hours glued to earlier. It was there, waiting, tempting her curiosity.

With a sigh, Lydia stood up and crossed the room, her bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden floor. She hesitated for a moment, glancing towards the door as if Nolan might barge in and catch her. But he wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

She flipped open the laptop. The screen lit up, revealing a password prompt. Of course, she thought. There was no way Nolan would leave something so important unprotected.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. What could his password be? She thought for a moment, then typed in "Nolan123." A small part of her hoped it was something simple, something that would give her instant access to whatever he was working on.

Wrong.

She frowned, trying another combination—her name this time, "Lydia."

Wrong again.

Frustration bubbled up, but she wasn’t surprised. Nolan was careful, always a step ahead, even with things like this. She sighed in defeat, closing the laptop and setting it back exactly how she had found it.

Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten in hours. The small kitchenette was just off the living area, and she made her way over, opening the fridge in hopes of finding something quick.

There were fresh groceries—vegetables, eggs, a loaf of bread—but nothing ready to eat. Lydia stared at the ingredients, unsure of what to do next. Could she even cook? Did she know how to? The memory of her past life, her skills, her routines—it was all a blank slate. She couldn’t even recall whether she had ever stood in a kitchen like this before, preparing a meal for herself.

Still, she gathered the groceries on the counter, pulling out a few vegetables. Maybe she could figure it out as she went. How hard could it be?

As she reached for a knife, a sudden wave of dizziness hit her. She froze, gripping the edge of the counter for support as the room began to spin. Her vision blurred, and a sharp pain shot through her head, like something was trying to break free from deep within her mind.

Lydia gasped, pressing her fingers to her temples. It was happening again—the strange, flickering images that came without warning. Voices, laughter, flashes of light—everything swirling together in a disorienting mess.

The voices grew louder, clearer. They weren’t just sounds; they were real, familiar, yet distant.

A deep male laugh echoed in her mind. *Who is that?*

A woman’s voice followed, soft and comforting, but the words were indistinct, like they were coming from underwater.

“Stop,” Lydia whispered, her breath shaky. The dizziness intensified, and the flickers of light behind her eyes became more rapid, more painful. “Please... stop.”

The flashes in her mind grew more intense, faces—blurry and unrecognizable—seemed to come and go in quick bursts. She couldn’t make out who they were, but the feeling that she should know them gnawed at her.

The voices overlapped, louder now. They weren’t comforting anymore—they were shouting, demanding her attention.

“No... stop!” Lydia screamed, her voice hoarse.

She stumbled backward, her body trembling as she tried to shake the images and voices from her mind. Her hand lashed out in a desperate attempt to push away the invisible onslaught, and in the process, she knocked over the glassware that was neatly arranged on the kitchen counter.

The crash was deafening, the glass shattering into hundreds of pieces around her feet. The sharp sound seemed to snap her back to reality, but the voices still clung to the edges of her mind, refusing to disappear completely.

Lydia dropped to her knees, clutching her head, her fingers digging into her scalp as if she could claw the memories out. Tears streamed down her face, and her breaths came in short, frantic gasps.

The front door slammed open, and Nolan rushed in, his eyes wide with alarm as he took in the scene before him. "Lydia!"

He was at her side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around her trembling form. She was shaking uncontrollably, her hair hanging over her face, damp with sweat.

“Lydia, look at me,” Nolan said urgently, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. He gently swept her hair back, tying it behind her head with a quick motion. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Lydia’s eyes fluttered open, but they were distant, filled with fear and confusion. Her breaths came in short, panicked bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Nolan grabbed a bowl from the sink and filled it with cool water. He soaked a cloth and pressed it gently to her forehead, wiping away the sweat. “Breathe, Lydia. Just breathe with me.”

“I... I can’t,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her body still locked in fear.

“Yes, you can. Slow it down,” Nolan coaxed, his voice calm and soothing. He demonstrated, taking a slow, deep breath and exhaling just as slowly. “In and out. Just follow me. You’re safe.”

Lydia tried to mimic his breathing, but the voices still clawed at the back of her mind, refusing to let go. She felt trapped, overwhelmed by the flood of memories she couldn’t place.

“Please,” she whispered. “Make them stop.”

Nolan didn’t respond, but his arms tightened around her, anchoring her to the present, pulling her away from the chaos in her mind.

“Just focus on me,” he said, his voice low. “Breathe with me. You’re safe.”

Little by little, Lydia’s breathing began to slow, the panic ebbing away as she clung to the sound of his voice. The world around her started to come back into focus, the harsh edges of her fear softening.

“There you go,” Nolan murmured, his hand resting on her shoulder, steadying her. “You’re okay.”

For a moment, they stayed like that, sitting on the floor amidst the shattered glass, her body still trembling, but her mind slowly regaining control.

Nolan pulled her to her feet gently, keeping a firm hold on her. “Come on, let’s get you outside. You need some fresh air.”

He led her to the door, guiding her outside into the cool evening breeze. The fresh air hit her skin, and she inhaled deeply, grateful for the reprieve from the suffocating weight of the house.

Lydia sank onto a chair on the small patio, her body exhausted from the intensity of the flashbacks. The memory fragments still lingered, but they were distant now, like a dream she couldn’t fully recall.

Nolan sat beside her, his face filled with concern. “What happened back there?”

Lydia shook her head, still too rattled to put it into words. All she could remember was the overwhelming sensation of laughter, voices, and a sense of something lost, just out of reach.

She closed her eyes, her heart still racing, but the voices were gone now, replaced by the steady rhythm of the world outside. She stood there, feeling the wind in her hair, and for the first time in what felt like hours, she breathed.