Section Two - Jan. 2017: "A̵re̶ ̶Y̷ou ̷Ju̵st ̷Too ̶A̶fr̷ai̵d to ̵Rem̸e̶m̵be̵r̸?"

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It was morning and the brisk smell of brewed coffee filled the house. Boxes were still stacked in the corner of nearly every room, but Brighton felt more like home every day.

Jack walked into the bathroom and groggily squinted at himself in the mirror. His faded green hair and loud flamingo shorts contrasted amid the room's neutral colors. A hairdryer rested on the counter along with an array of makeup products semi-neatly arranged in the corner – evidence that Signe had already been awake far longer than him. 

He leaned forward against the counter and gazed deeper into the mirror with eyes in need of just a little more sleep from the late night before.

He yawned. "The coffee should fix that," he thought. "...And maybe some water."

He leaned down to splash some cold water on his face and quickly felt more like himself. Grabbing a towel to dry off, he looked into the mirror one final time.

But when he expected to see two bright blue eyes staring back at him, he instead saw blood dripping out of them. He stumbled back in shock, hitting the back of the door with a "thud". Reaching up to touch the trails of blood left on his face, he found rich crimson covering his fingertips.

He wasn't hallucinating... or was he?

His reflection revealed more on his face, dripping down onto his white shirt. He stumbled back toward the sink in hopes of finding something that would stop the bleeding, but the glimpse of another being caught his panicked vision.

He looked to his right to find a familiar figure – not much different than himself. Upon sight of him, Jack's sight grew blurry and distorted. All he could see was the outline of an ivory mask with red, green, and purple markings.

Whispers of voices bounced around in his head, coupled only by the sound of children's laughter and the harmonic chime of a music box.

Jack's breathing grew anxious as he slid down the wall. He felt weak... powerless.

"̷H̸a̴v̶e̴ ̵y̸ou ̸fo̸r̵g̴o̴tte̶n̴ ̵o̶r̵ ar̵e̶ ̶y̸ou̵ ̷ju̵st ̷to̵o ̶af̵r̷ai̵d̸ to̴ ̵re̴m̸e̶m̵b̵e̵r̸?" a shaky voice questioned. It was a question trapped in his mind – repeating itself at any moment it could.

Unwilling to surrender as the masked man peered down at him, he grappled for the hairdryer on the counter, throwing it with all the strength he had left.

He heard it crash against the wall – the noise reverberating as it landed in the empty tub. He must have missed.

Opening his eyes again, everything was silent. Jack's vision was restored, and the man had vanished. His heavy breaths soon shallowed as he realized it truly was another hallucination – this one being the most surreal yet.

"Sean?" Signe called out from the other side of the door. "Is everything ok?"

"Uh, yeah!" he replied, trying to not sound distraught. "I just tripped. I'm fine – nothing to worry about."

"Ok", she replied. "Well, coffee is ready downstairs."

"I'll be right out!" he reassured, despite knowing his reality was slowly crumbling more and more each day.

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this section, please hit the star button and feel free to leave a comment or suggestion before reading the next installment. 

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