Borrowed Skin

Chapter 2:The Scar That Wasn't There

Ethan stared at Jamie like his mind was playing tricks on him. The world around them seemed to shrink, the hallway too small, too tight to contain the impossible.

He was *here*. Jamie Holloway was standing in front of him, grinning like nothing had happened—like he hadn’t been six feet under just a few days ago.

“I—Jamie?” The name felt strange on Ethan’s tongue, like he hadn’t spoken it in years.

Jamie raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe as if the weight of the world hadn’t just shifted in that one moment. “Who else would it be?”

Ethan’s mouth opened, but no words came out. His mind raced, looking for an answer, some explanation that made sense. Maybe he was hallucinating. That made sense, didn’t it? Grief did things to people. Maybe his brain had finally snapped, and this was some cruel trick his mind was playing.

But Jamie was standing there, solid and real, waiting for him to say something. The longer Ethan stayed silent, the more awkward it became.

“Are you… alright, man?” Jamie tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern. The same easy, laid-back tone, the same slight drawl in his voice, but something about it felt *wrong*.

Ethan blinked, trying to steady himself. “I—how—”

Jamie laughed. A sharp, sudden sound that cut through the tension like a knife. “How? Man, you’re acting like I’ve been gone for years. What, did you think I’d just disappear on you?” He gave Ethan a playful shove, his touch familiar yet… off. Too firm. Too deliberate.

It wasn’t right. None of this was right.

Ethan swallowed hard, trying to process everything. He wanted to believe it—wanted to believe his best friend had somehow come back, that everything would just snap back to normal. But the pit in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

The disbelief in his eyes must’ve been obvious, because Jamie’s grin faltered. “You good? You’re looking at me like I’m a ghost or something.”

Ethan blinked, shaking his head as if to clear away the fog. “No, I just—” He paused, eyes catching on something. A faint line along Jamie’s scalp, barely visible under his messy hair. Ethan frowned, squinting in the dim light.

Jamie followed his gaze, casually running a hand through his hair. “What’s up? You see something?”

There it was again. That scar. A jagged, thin seam running along the top of Jamie’s head, almost as if—

Ethan’s stomach churned.

“How did you—” Ethan hesitated, pointing at Jamie’s head. His mouth was dry, every nerve screaming at him to stop, to not ask the question, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. “What happened to your head?”

Jamie’s hand froze mid-motion, fingers still tangled in his hair. For a brief second, something shifted in his expression. His eyes darkened, his smile slipping just a little too quickly.

Then, just as suddenly, the easy grin was back, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time.

“Oh, this?” Jamie laughed, but the sound was hollow. He casually tugged his hair down over the scar. “Got into a little accident, that’s all. You know me, always doing dumb stuff. It’s nothing, really.”

An accident? Jamie had never mentioned any accident before his death. Ethan’s mind flashed back to the funeral, the casket, the fact that no one had actually *seen* Jamie’s body after the crash. The casket had been closed.

He suddenly felt cold, the air in the room pressing in on him, suffocating.

Jamie’s eyes were still on him, too sharp, too focused. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Ethan. Relax, man. I’m here, alright?”

But that scar—no, that *seam*—was still visible, and now that Ethan had seen it, he couldn’t unsee it.

His voice was weak when he spoke. “But you—you were…”

*Dead.* The word was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t say it. It felt too real, too final.

Jamie’s smile wavered again, just for a second, before he clapped Ethan on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble. “What, did you really think I wouldn’t come back for you? Man, we’ve got way too much to do, too many memories left to make.”

Ethan forced a weak laugh, but his mind was reeling. The scar on Jamie’s head, the way he moved—it was like watching a puppet being pulled by invisible strings, a bad imitation of the friend he used to know.

But if this wasn’t Jamie… what was it?

“I, uh, I need to go,” Ethan muttered, stepping back, his voice barely more than a whisper. He could feel Jamie’s eyes on him, heavy and expectant, but he couldn’t stay here any longer. His mind couldn’t take it. “I’ll, uh, I’ll call you later.”

Jamie’s face didn’t change, but there was something cold, distant in his eyes now. The smile never left his lips, but Ethan felt like he was looking at a stranger.

“Sure thing,” Jamie said, his voice smooth, but with a strange edge to it. “You know where to find me.”

Ethan didn’t respond. He just turned and left, the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he walked out of the building and into the cool night air.

He needed answers. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out the truth.