And just like that-

  I knew.

  That man... the one who looks like me...

  We're not just similar.

  We're the same.

  CHAPTER 5 – MERRY-GO-ROUND

  Dr. Lenny flinches at my name.

  It’s subtle,just a twitch, a flicker in his eyes, but I catch it. Recognition? Fear? Something else?

  He masks it quickly, schooling his expression into neutrality as he strides toward the examination bed.

  Lenny gestures. “Lie down so I can examine you.”

  His voice is too even, too normal.

  The bed is different from the others I’ve seen.. sleek, metallic, unnervingly pristine. A thin green sheet is tucked over it with clinical precision. Beside it, an identical bed stands, just as untouched.

  These weren’t makeshift.

  They didn’t belong in a place like this.

  I hesitate for a moment, still thinking about his reaction earlier, but I obey.

  The bed is surprisingly soft, and my aching body sinks into it. It feels like heaven.

  —too comfortable.

  My body, weak and exhausted, melts into it like it had been longing for this exact feeling.

  Lenny turns to a nearby shelf, sifting through its contents. “Let me grab a thermometer.”

  I watch him, but my mind is elsewhere.

  He reacted when I said my name.

  I know he did.

  And yet, he won’t say anything.

  Why?

  He knows something. He must. Another person here looks like me. Another person with my name.

  Is it dangerous for him to talk about it? Or is he just unsure if he can trust me?

  I need to find out.

  Lenny returns, holding a thermometer and a stethoscope. He hands me the thermometer. “Under your arm.”

  I follow his instructions as he presses the cold metal of the stethoscope against my chest. It traces along my ribcage, feeling every bone beneath my thin skin.

  “You’re underweight,” he mutters. “But don’t worry. It happens to everyone when they first arrive. It doesn’t take long to recover.”

  His words are meant to reassure me, but they don’t.

  Why am I so thin?

  What is this place?

  Where am I?

  And the dead body

  I've been here long enough, and I don’t know anything.

  I always prided myself on figuring things out on my own, on rising to the challenge. But this place… it doesn’t follow logic. At least, not any logic I understand.

  I need to ask.

  I need answers.

  But where do I start?

  I take a breath. “Doctor… what exactly am I?”

  He pulls the stethoscope away, looking at me carefully. For a moment, he hesitates.

  Finally, he sighs. “It’s your first day. You have questions. But trust me, knowing won’t make you feel any better.”

  I sit up. “I don’t care. I need to know. I’m stuck here just like you. I have a right to know what’s going on.”

  Lenny exhales sharply. “Kid, I don’t know what to say. I don’t have an answer for that. No one does.”

  That’s not what I wanted to hear.

  He exhales sharply, leaning against the counter. “Nobody here knows where we are. We don’t know what this place is. No radios, no phones, nothing works. Some call it an island, but even that doesn’t quite fit.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why not?”

  Lenny drags a hand down his face, exhaustion creeping into his voice. “Because we don’t know its limits. All we have is this settlement, just this one small, fragile space where we can exist. Beyond that, there’s the forest. And no one knows how far it stretches.” He pauses. “We can’t explore it anymore.”

  I tense. “Can’t?”

  Lenny’s expression darkens.

  “When I arrived,” I say slowly, “there was this thin, glowing white line in the forest. That’s how I got here. If we follow it back”

  “No.” Lenny’s voice is sharp, final. “That line only appears under a full moon, and only for those coming in. Once you're here, it’s gone.”

  A chill spreads through me.

  "So that means… a person can only enter once a month. I mutter."

  Lenny subtly nods, then exhales. “The forest,” he says, his voice edged with something close to reluctance, "It doesn’t behave like something of this world… the real world, I mean."

  I swallow hard.

  “The moment you step out of the light,” he murmurs, “something cuts you. Just like the wounds on your legs.”

  I look down at my feet. The wounds. The stinging pain.

  He’s right.

  “And even if, somehow, you made it past the forest,” Lenny goes on, “there’s nothing waiting for you except the ocean. Waves over fifteen feet high. No boats. No way across.”

  Trapped.

  I clench my fists, anger boiling beneath my skin.

  Who did this?

  Why am I here?

  Lenny has to be wrong. There has to be a way out.

  I meet his eyes, desperation creeping into my voice.

  “Has anyone ever made it out before?”

  There had to be someone.

  “No one has ever made it out. Not as far as I know.” say Lenny

  No.

  No, this can’t be happening.

  I’m stuck here? I can’t leave?

  Would anyone even notice I’m gone? My parents wouldn’t even realize it for a while. I don’t have any friends who would come looking for me.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  But there has to be something. If there’s no way out, then we have to figure out who’s doing this to us.

  That’s it.

  That’s the answer for now.

  A flicker of hope sparks inside me.

  I take a breath and turn to Dr. Lenny. “Do you know why you’re here? Or anyone who could be behind this? I mean, you guys must have learned something after all this time.”

  Lenny sighs. “I’ve been here for six months. And no, we don’t know anything. And I don’t believe anyone is doing this to us.”

  I frown. “What do you mean you don’t know? You’ve been stuck here for six months and you know nothing?”

  Frustration swells inside me. My hands clench into fists.

  “How can you not know?” My voice rises. “Have you even asked anyone? Someone must know something.”

  Lenny watches me calmly. “Kid, I know you’re frustrated. I understand. I’ve been where you are now. But that feeling… it disappears quickly.”

  I grit my teeth.

  “You don’t know me,” I snap. “Don’t you dare assume who I am. I’m not a quitter like you”

  The words catch in my throat. Suddenly, without warning, tears burn my eyes. I regret saying those words.

  What am I doing?

  I’m yelling at a man who’s trying to help me.

  I lower my head, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry.” My voice is quiet now, thick with emotion. “It’s just… too much to take in.”

  Lenny doesn’t hesitate. “It’s okay. This place does that to people.”

  I wipe my face quickly and straighten up. “So we’re all just… stuck. Fine. But it doesn’t matter how long it takes—I’ll figure this out. For all of us.”

  Lenny lowers his gaze.

  Not in thought.

  Not in contemplation.

  But in resignation.

  As if my words are weightless. As if my determination is just noise in a place that swallows hope whole.

  And that’s when I see it—the defeat in his eyes.

  Not the quiet exhaustion of a man who has fought too long, but the hollow gaze of someone who has already lost. A soldier who didn’t just lose the battle, but the war. Everything.

  The same Dr. Lenny who, just moments ago, carried himself with the confidence of a survivor now looks like a man who has watched the world burn and simply accepted the ash.

  There’s more he isn’t telling me.

  And when he finally speaks…

  "You might not have noticed," Lenny says, his voice hollow, "but there are only thirteen people here."

  I frown. “Okay…?”

  "That’s how it’s always been," Lenny continues. Then he hesitates, his voice dropping. "And… every person here… has exactly one year to live."

  The words land like a hammer to my chest.

  Silence.

  A suffocating, crushing weight presses against me, sinking deep into my ribs. My breath falters.

  But Lenny isn’t done.

  “When a year passes, they die.” His voice is void of emotion now—drained, emptied.

  “And then… someone else appears from the forest. As if to replace them.”

  The room feels smaller. The air, thinner.

  Something tightens around my lungs, squeezing, squeezing, until I swear I might choke.

  Like a hand reaching inside me, fingers curling around my heart... gripping it with a slow, merciless squeeze.

  So that’s what Grace meant yesterday when she said, that’s why I’m here.

  It’s too much to take in.

  But no.

  I won’t give in.

  I won’t break.

  I force my breath to steady and look at Lenny. Stay focused. “You’re saying there are always thirteen people here… and each person gets a year to live.”

  Lenny nods.

  I do the math.

  "You've been here for six months," I say slowly. "That means you only have six months left."

  “Not exactly. This place has thirteen months in a year,” the doctor says. “That means I have seven months left.”

  I stare at him. That doesn’t make any sense. How can there be thirteen months in a year? That’s just not... realistically possible.

  Does that mean time is different here? Are we even on Earth anymore? No. That’s ridiculous. It must be a misunderstanding. I drift in thought

  I glance around, trying to ground myself, but nothing feels stable. My thoughts spiral until I meet the doctor’s eyes again.

  "Nothing here resembles reality,” he says quietly. “Nothing here makes sense."

  Nothing we do matters.

  I clench my fists. “But you only have seven months to live. How can you just give up? You said you value everyone equally, that it doesn’t matter who they are. Do you not value your own life? How can you throw it away like this?”

  The doctor places a hand over mine. His voice is calm, but there’s a weight to his words, heavy with something deeper than exhaustion something painful. “I don’t want to demotivate you, but there’s nothing we can do here. Every time someone gets stranded, in a book, a movie, a game—there’s always something to fight. Some enemy to defeat. Some goal to reach.” He shakes his head. “But here? There’s nothing. No monsters. No villains. The only danger is the forest, and even that only matters if you try to leave.”

  He exhales, slow and weary. “This place doesn’t kill you outright. It just drains you—slowly, quietly—until you have nothing left.”

  I watch him, my mind racing. There has to be an answer.

  "People must have tried to figure this place out before,” I argue, desperation creeping into my voice.

  Lenny doesn’t answer right away. His eyes darken, shoulders sagging under the weight of something heavy, something I can’t yet grasp.

  “They did.”

  Two simple words, yet they carry the weight of countless failures.

  “Everyone does, at first.” His voice is steady, but there’s something beneath it. Something worn. Something broken.

  “They ask questions. They search for answers. They fight. They refuse to accept it.” He exhales slowly. “But then they see it happen. Over and over. People die. Every month.”

  His gaze lifts, locking onto mine.

  “And eventually… they just accept it.”

  The words sink into me like cold steel.

  “Just like in the outside world, where we die when we age.”

  I shiver runs down my spine.

  “Some believed this was a human experiment,” he continues. His voice is distant now, like he’s repeating old theories long since abandoned.

  “Some thought we were test subjects, lab rats in a grand, cruel experiment. Maybe for science. Maybe for war.”

  He exhales, shaking his head.

  “Others said it was a game. Entertainment for the wealthy. That somewhere, people are watching us, placing bets, laughing at our suffering.”

  His gaze drifts, eyes unfocused.

  “Then there were those who swore we were already dead. That this is hell, or purgatory, or some twisted afterlife where we’re being punished.”

  A pause. His fingers tighten into a fist.

  “A few believed we were in a dream. That none of this is real. That we’re asleep somewhere, trapped in our own minds.”

  His voice drops lower now.

  “And then… there were the ones who thought we weren’t human anymore. That we had been taken. Changed. That whatever we were before… we’re something else now.”

  Silence.

  Lenny exhales, rubbing his temples. “But the truth is…” He hesitates.

  His eyes flicker with something... not fear, but something worse.

  “This place is beyond human understanding.” He looks at me now, gaze steady. “And if a human can’t comprehend it…”

  He doesn’t finish the sentence.

  Because he doesn’t have to.

  Because I already know.

  The answer—whatever it is—might not be one we were ever meant to understand.

  A chill spreads through me, but at the same time, my skin burns. Sweat beads at my temples, trickling down my back like molten iron. It feels like I’m standing in the middle of a vast desert, the sun beating down, unrelenting, except there is no sun. No heat. Just the weight of something unseen pressing against me, crushing me from the inside.

  My hands tremble. Not from cold. Not from exhaustion.

  From fear.

  Even if this is beyond our understanding, there must be something. Some hint. Some clue…

  I squeeze my fists, trying to steady myself, to hold onto something real.

  There has to be a reason. A pattern. A clue.

  Something.

  I replay everything in my mind, the glowing line in the forest, the others’ reactions, the way Lenny flinched at my name. And then there’s him.

  The other me.

  He exists. I know he does.

  I take a slow breath, heart pounding against my ribs. The pieces are right in front of me, scattered, just waiting to be put together.

  A year. Thirteen people. The cycle.

  Thirteen must stay. When one dies, another arrives.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Think.

  Why is he here? Why do I look like him? Why did Lenny react the way he did?

  Unless—

  I inhale sharply, my eyes snapping open.

  That’s it.

  I look up at the doctor, my breath quick and uneven. “Doctor…” My voice wavers, but I push through. “This is a loop.”

  Lenny watches me carefully.

  My thoughts race ahead of me. “Yes… yes, it must be.” My pulse pounds against my temples. “Don’t you see? There’s someone else here—someone who looks exactly like me. The other Black.” I press my palm against my chest. “You might not notice because of how thin I am now, but I know. I know he’s me.”

  Lenny doesn’t react.

  But I don’t need him to. I already know I’m right.

  I stand abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. My voice rises. “This is the clue. This is the key! Maybe it’s not a loop for everyone, but at least for me. And you—” I gesture around wildly. “All of you are dragged along with it.”

  My breath comes in fast, shallow bursts. The world around me sharpens, every detail searing into my mind.

  “This explains everything! The cycle, the numbers, why we can’t leave” I clutch my head, exhilaration and terror colliding in my chest. “If I can talk to him... if I can reach the other me... I can break it. We can all go home.”

  Relief crashes over me like a wave.

  I did it.

  I solved it.

  I’ve saved us all.

  But—

  No.

  It shouldn’t be this easy.

  The thought creeps in, unwelcome. A whisper at the back of my mind.

  I stare at Lenny, waiting for something—acknowledgment, shock, even the smallest flicker of hope.

  But I see none of it.

  His face is unreadable. The silence stretches too long, pressing against my chest like an unseen weight.

  And then—

  “Kid.”

  Lenny’s voice is low, steady. Unshaken.

  “You’re wrong.”

  The words hit harder than I expect. “What do you mean? You just don’t see it yet, but this is a loop! You’ve given up hope, but I haven’t. I will save you. I will save everyone!”

  The doctor exhales, long and tired. “First of all, don’t tell anyone about your theory,” he warns. “It’s for your own safety. Hope, in a place like this, is dangerous—especially false hope. And as for that guy you’re talking about…” He hesitates.

  Something in my stomach twists.

  “Yes, I see the resemblance,” Lenny admits, his voice calm, too calm. "Even I am confused but there is a connection. And maybe…” He exhales, rubbing his temples. “Maybe that’s just this place messing with us.”

  He doesn’t look at me.

  I swallow, my mouth dry. “But it could be a loop, right?” I push, searching his face for something... anything. “You said you see it too. It makes sense.”

  Lenny sighs. “I can see how it could be a loop. In some ways.”

  I exhale, my pulse still racing. “Then—”

  “But that guy—”

  He stops.

  Just like that.

  His words cut off like a door slamming shut.

  I wait.

  A second passes.

  Then another.

  I stare at him, my body tense.

  Lenny’s lips press into a thin line. For a moment, I think—He won’t say it.

  I need him to say it.

  Then, finally, he looks me dead in the eye.

  And says-

  “His name isn’t Black.”

  The room tilts.

  I blink.

  “…What?”

  Lenny doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.

  His face is unreadable, but his voice... his voice is heavy, like he’s setting down a weight that’s been crushing him.

  He repeats it, slower this time.

  “His name isn’t Black.”

  My stomach knots. My breath catches.

  I shake my head. “That doesn’t—”

  Lenny doesn’t let me finish.

  He exhales, then says the last thing I expect.

  “His name is White.”