Ethan sat at his desk, staring blankly at the screen in front of him. The soft hum of his computer was the only sound in the room, but his mind was far from the digital world. His inbox sat untouched, work emails piling up, but he couldn't focus on anything other than Jamie.
*I’m here now. That’s all that matters.*
The words rattled around in Ethan’s head, mocking him. His friend’s sudden return should have been a cause for celebration, but instead, it felt like a weight, growing heavier with each passing day. The scar at the top of Jamie’s head—it had burned itself into Ethan’s mind, impossible to forget.
But it wasn’t just the scar. It was the way Jamie moved, the way he spoke. The way he watched Ethan with those eyes that seemed to see more than they should. Ethan had tried to ignore it, tried to convince himself that he was overreacting, that the trauma of losing Jamie had messed with his head.
But now, he wasn’t so sure.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he typed Jamie’s name into the search bar.
He hesitated.
It felt wrong, looking up his best friend like this. Like he was betraying him. But the knot of unease in his stomach had only grown over the past few days. He had to know. He had to find something—*anything*—that could explain why things felt so off.
He pressed Enter.
The search results were mostly generic—social media profiles, old news articles, a few photos from when Jamie had been alive and well. Ethan’s chest tightened as he scrolled through the familiar pictures, seeing his best friend’s smiling face staring back at him from happier times.
Everything had seemed so normal back then. Jamie had been full of life, full of jokes and plans for the future. The kind of guy who always made things better just by being there.
But the Jamie who had come back wasn’t that person anymore.
Ethan clicked on an old article from the local newspaper. It was about the car accident—the one that had taken Jamie’s life. His throat tightened as he skimmed the details: **local man dies in single-vehicle crash**, **cause of death: blunt force trauma**. No mention of any surgeries or strange scars.
So where the hell had those stitches come from?
His mind raced, running in circles around a question he didn’t know how to answer. Jamie’s body had been in the ground for months. There was no way he could have survived. But he was here, wasn’t he? Sitting across from Ethan, talking like nothing had happened?
*No.* That wasn’t Jamie. Not *really*.
Ethan’s eyes flicked back to his screen, his fingers shaking slightly as he typed again—this time, not Jamie’s name, but something darker, something that had been gnawing at the back of his mind.
*"Coming back from the dead."*
It was ridiculous. Absurd. But if Jamie could walk out of his own grave, maybe there was more to this than Ethan could understand. He scrolled through a mix of paranormal sites, conspiracy forums, and stories that seemed pulled from bad horror movies.
It all seemed too far-fetched. Until he clicked on one link.
The page was crude, like it had been designed in the late 90s and forgotten about. The text was small and crammed together, but one word caught his eye: **Skinwalkers**.
Ethan frowned as he read the description, his heart beginning to pound. Skinwalkers were folklore—a myth, supposedly creatures that could wear the skins of the dead and move among the living, blending in perfectly with their prey.
His breath caught in his throat.
It wasn’t possible. There was no way something like that could be real. But as he scrolled further down, a sense of dread crept into his bones. The stories all pointed to one thing—these creatures could take over the bodies of the deceased, but they weren’t perfect. Sometimes, the skins they wore would tear or scar in places, revealing the monster beneath.
The stitches. The way Jamie’s skin had *twitched* at the café.
Ethan’s stomach twisted.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed on the desk, making him jump. He glanced at the screen—*Jamie*. His heart skipped a beat as he stared at the name flashing on the display, his hand frozen in mid-air.
For a long moment, he just stared, the phone buzzing in the quiet room, the sound grating on his nerves. His mind was racing, flipping between the Jamie he knew and this new, twisted version of his friend that felt too much like a stranger.
Finally, he answered.
“Hey,” Ethan said, his voice tight, trying to keep the unease from seeping through. “What’s up?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, just long enough to make Ethan’s skin prickle with unease. Then Jamie’s voice came through, smooth and casual as ever. “Just wanted to see if you were free tonight. Thought we could hang out—catch up some more.”
Ethan’s throat was dry. “Yeah, uh… I’m not sure. I’ve got a lot of work.”
“Come on, man. It’s been forever since we really hung out. You’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”
Ethan’s heart thudded in his chest. The casual tone in Jamie’s voice was laced with something else. *Something watching*.
“I’ve just been… tired,” Ethan muttered, his hand tightening around the phone. “You know, adjusting to everything.”
“Adjusting?” Jamie repeated, the word heavy, almost mocking. “To me being alive, you mean?”
Ethan froze, every muscle in his body locking up. The way Jamie said it—the way his voice dipped just slightly, the faint amusement beneath the words—it sent a shiver down his spine.
Jamie continued, his voice quiet, almost conspiratorial. “You’ve been thinking about it a lot, haven’t you? Wondering how I’m here. Wondering if I’m really me.”
Ethan swallowed, his mouth dry. “What are you talking about?”
Another long pause, and then Jamie laughed, low and soft. “Relax, Ethan. I’m just messing with you.”
But Ethan wasn’t laughing. His pulse was racing, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “Yeah,” he forced out, his voice barely a whisper. “Yeah, okay.”
“Tell you what,” Jamie said, his tone suddenly brighter, lighter. “I’ll swing by later. We’ll talk then.”
Before Ethan could respond, the line went dead.
He stared at the phone, his heart still pounding in his chest. Every instinct was screaming at him that something was wrong—*terribly* wrong—but he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know *who* to talk to. Jamie had been his best friend for years. The person he trusted most. But now…
Now, Ethan wasn’t sure if he could trust him at all.
YOU ARE READING
Borrowed Skin
Terror**"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...
