Ethan hadn’t slept since he saw Jamie again.
It had been three days, and every time he closed his eyes, the image of his friend’s scarred head haunted him. The easy smile Jamie wore, the familiar way he spoke—*it should have been comforting*. It should have been everything Ethan had hoped for since the funeral.
But it wasn’t.
Something about Jamie was wrong, and the more Ethan tried to convince himself otherwise, the more the truth gnawed at him from the inside out.
Now, sitting across from Jamie in a small, run-down café they used to visit, Ethan felt like he was drowning in his own mind. The low hum of chatter from the other patrons barely registered as he stared into the steam rising from his coffee cup.
Jamie was speaking—rambling on about something that should have mattered. Sports, or music, or some TV show they used to binge-watch together. But Ethan wasn’t listening.
He couldn’t stop staring at the scar.
It was almost invisible now, hidden under Jamie’s tousled hair, but Ethan knew it was there. The thin line that had stretched across the top of Jamie’s head, the one that hadn’t been there before. Every time Jamie shifted, every time he leaned forward, the light caught it just enough for Ethan to notice.
*An accident, he said.*
Ethan’s stomach churned. If that was true, why didn’t Jamie mention it before? Why didn’t anyone else know about it?
“You still with me, man?”
Ethan blinked, realizing he hadn’t said a word in minutes. Jamie was watching him closely, those sharp eyes studying him with a little too much intensity. Ethan swallowed, forcing a weak smile.
“Yeah, sorry. Just tired.”
Jamie’s grin softened, but Ethan noticed something strange in the way he held his gaze. “Tired? You’ve been saying that since we met up again. You sure everything’s okay?”
Ethan nodded, but it felt like a lie. Everything wasn’t okay. Jamie’s return should’ve felt like a miracle, but it only felt like a bad dream—a dream he couldn’t wake up from.
He sipped his coffee, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m fine. Just… getting used to everything again.”
Jamie leaned back in his seat, watching him carefully. “You know, you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right? I’m not going anywhere.”
Ethan’s grip tightened around his cup. The words were supposed to be reassuring, but they sent a cold shiver down his spine. He could feel Jamie’s eyes on him, like they were peeling away layers, searching for something.
His throat felt tight, but he forced a casual tone. “It’s just—seeing you. I thought you were gone, Jamie. I thought I’d lost you.”
Jamie’s expression didn’t change, but there was a slight flicker in his eyes. “I told you, man. I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”
Ethan looked down at his coffee, his mind racing. How could Jamie be so calm about this? How could he act like nothing had happened? It was like the accident had never even occurred. Like his death had been nothing more than a footnote in their lives.
*I’m here now. That’s all that matters.*
But *what* was here? That thought clung to the edges of Ethan’s mind, a question he was too scared to ask. If this was really Jamie, why did it feel so wrong?
“I just—” Ethan started, his voice cracking. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Jamie’s fingers drummed lightly on the table, the sound sharp against the wooden surface. “Ready for what?”
Ethan hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. “To move on. To just pretend like nothing happened.”
For a moment, Jamie didn’t respond. His smile faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. The casual air he had carried before was gone, replaced by something colder, more focused.
“We can’t go back,” Jamie said softly. “We can’t undo what’s been done. But we can keep moving forward. We *have* to.”
Ethan’s hands trembled, his pulse quickening. There it was again—*that tone*. Jamie’s voice was familiar, but there was something underlying it, something that made Ethan’s skin crawl. The way Jamie looked at him now, like he was waiting for something, like he was *expecting* something.
“You’re not listening, Ethan,” Jamie said, his voice quieter now, sharper. “You keep holding on to the past. You need to let it go.”
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. There was an edge to Jamie’s words, a subtle shift in his demeanor that sent alarm bells ringing in Ethan’s head. His gaze drifted again, landing on the barely concealed scar at the top of Jamie’s head.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Jamie sitting across from him wasn’t the same person he’d known. The scar was just a symbol of something deeper—something lurking beneath the surface.
Jamie must’ve noticed Ethan’s eyes on the scar, because his hand moved almost instinctively, brushing his hair back into place. For a split second, Ethan thought he saw something twitch beneath the skin, something that shouldn’t have been there.
“Ethan,” Jamie said, his voice low and dangerous. “What’s really going on in your head?”
Ethan flinched at the question, his breath catching in his throat. For the first time since Jamie had returned, he was afraid. Afraid of what he might find if he kept looking too closely.
“I—I’m just tired,” Ethan stammered, forcing a weak laugh. “It’s nothing.”
Jamie didn’t respond for a long moment. His eyes stayed locked on Ethan, unblinking. “You know you can trust me, right?”
Ethan nodded, but the lie felt heavier this time.
He could feel it now—the growing distance between them, the widening chasm that no amount of words could cross. This person in front of him wore Jamie’s face, but there was something *else* underneath, something darker, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.
“I have to go,” Ethan said suddenly, standing up too quickly. His chair scraped against the floor, the sound loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby tables.
Jamie didn’t stand. He just watched Ethan, his expression unreadable. “Sure,” he said slowly. “But we’ll talk later, right?”
Ethan nodded again, his throat dry. “Yeah. Later.”
He could feel Jamie’s eyes on him as he left the café, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t look back, but the sensation of being watched lingered long after he’d stepped out into the cold air.
The scar. The coldness in Jamie’s voice. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it was like everything had been meticulously constructed, just off enough to be wrong, but not enough to confirm Ethan’s worst fears.
*But what if you’re right?* his mind whispered.
Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets, quickening his pace. He didn’t want to think about it. Not yet.
But deep down, he knew he couldn’t run from it forever.
YOU ARE READING
Borrowed Skin
Horor**"Borrowed Skin"** _"Grief does strange things to the mind, but nothing could prepare him for this."_ Ethan Carter thought he had said goodbye forever when his best friend, Jamie Holloway, died in a tragic accident. The days since have been a blu...
