Chapter 3

Mr. Davison, my English teacher, pulled me aside after class. He was one of the few teachers who had genuinely championed my writing.

"Liam, I need to talk to you," he said, his face etched with worry. "This isn't you. What's going on?"

"I'm just done with it all, sir," I said.

"I don't believe that," he insisted. He lowered his voice. "I was a grader for the preliminary exam. I want to show you something."

He led me into his empty classroom and closed the door. He pulled a paper from his briefcase. It was a copy of Ethan's essay.

"He got a perfect score," Mr. Davison said. "His analysis was brilliant. But... something felt strange."

I took the essay. I read the first paragraph, and my blood ran cold.

It was my idea. The core thesis was mine, the one I had planned for my winning essay in my past life. But it was more than that.

I scanned the pages, my eyes catching on specific phrases and logical progressions.

Ethan's essay had corrected the very flaws I had deliberately planted in my own terrible draft. A specific, flawed argument I had written and then crossed out in my exam paper was present in Ethan's essay, but polished and perfected.

He hadn't just stolen my final idea. He had stolen my thought process. He had a blueprint of my mind.

"How is this possible?" I whispered.

Mr. Davison shook his head. "I don't know. It's like he read your mind, saw the mistakes you were going to make, and fixed them. It's... unsettling."

That night, I waited for Jessica in the parking lot. When she saw me, she smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Liam, you're waiting for me?"

"Did you give him my work?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

"What? Who? What are you talking about?" She tried to act confused, but I saw the flicker of panic in her eyes.

"Ethan. Did you tell him my ideas for the essay?"

"Of course not! Why would I do that? I'm on your side!"

Liar.

"We're done, Jessica," I said.

Her face changed from fake concern to cold anger. "What? You're breaking up with me? Because you had a mental breakdown and failed an exam?"

"We're done," I repeated.

I turned my back on her. As I walked away, her voice dripped with scorn.

"Fine! Go work in your pathetic little bait shop! See if I care! You're throwing away your life, and you want to throw me away too? You'll regret this."

I didn't look back. She thought she was dumping a poor fisherman's son who had lost his mind.

She had no idea who I really was.