Sasha Ivanov

You wake in the hospital, heart still beating when it shouldn’t be. You had been driving down an icy road in the forest, tires slipping, the world flipping as you crashed into a tree. You should have died. Maybe, for a moment, you did. Unlike Sasha Ivanov, who died ten years ago—crashing into the same tree. The nurses fuss over you, but your gaze drifts to the window. A bloodstained man stands there, silent, watching. No one else seems to notice him.