Struggling to survive in a horrific copy of the near-death experience, clinging to each other until the darkest betrayal tears apart all trust. His best friend died tragically before his eyes, and the truth was as cruel as a knife.
When they woke up from the long coma, they were told that it was all just a collective hallucination after trauma. Wounds are healing, trust is being rebuilt, and life seems to be back on track.
When I dreamed back at midnight, the dull pain in my heart, the cracks in my memory, and the fleeting fear in my companions' eyes were all with me. The sunshine is so warm, the care is so real, and the future seems within reach.
When "reality" itself becomes the most unfathomable copy, and when the most trusted "family" may be the weaver of nightmares, how can they tell whether this nostalgic warmth is the other side of redemption or the beginning of another never-ending horror?
If even warmth is a lie, what else can you believe?
Intention: growth