Jason lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling as the storm raged outside. The rain hammered against the roof in a relentless rhythm, and every now and then, the crack of thunder sent a shiver through his bones. It was strange—so strange. In all the years his family had come to this cabin, they’d never seen a storm like this one. The weather had always been calm and peaceful, a perfect setting for a retreat into nature. But tonight... tonight felt different. The wind coming through the cracked window was cold, biting, and the sound of distant thunder made it feel as though it was coming from the mountains themselves.

  Jason couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at him, the remnants of the bizarre events from earlier still lingering in his mind. His thoughts circled around the strange voice he had heard, the other him climbing the mountain... and the overwhelming headache that followed. His body ached with confusion, and no matter how hard he tried to dismiss it, the sense that something was terribly wrong was impossible to ignore.

  Then, through the howling wind and the constant downpour, a voice reached his ears—clear as day. It shouldn’t have been possible. How could anyone be outside in this weather, let alone be heard over the storm?

  The voice, unmistakably his mother’s, was sharp and tinged with frustration.

  “What is happening, Lockhart? We all thought you did it right this time!”

  Jason froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat up quickly, eyes wide as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. He leaned closer to the window, straining to hear the response.

  “I DID it right... but we have troubles... outside. I cannot be here all the time,” a second voice answered. The voice was unfamiliar, cold, and precise—like someone who didn’t show emotion, but everything about it felt wrong.

  “We cannot take this anymore. He is waking up again and again... and this storm... we are all scared!” His mother’s voice cracked with emotion, raw and filled with fear.

  Jason’s pulse quickened as he clenched his fists. What were they talking about? Waking up? He wasn’t sure if it was just the storm messing with his mind, but the words felt like a punch to the gut.

  “It’s not easy, not only for you, Mary, but for others too. Remember that... But right now, all we can do is keep him here. I’ve tried all scenarios, all possible and even impossible. The only thing that’s working somehow... is this one. He needs to feel like he’s in a perfect world, where nothing is missing.”

  The silence that followed was heavy. Jason felt his chest tighten, as if the air had thickened around him.

  “But we are doing it! Exactly how it was written...” His mother’s voice wavered, like she was losing her grip.

  “It’s not just about you, Mary...” The voice spoke again, now filled with something almost resembling disappointment. “I think... there’s even someone inside who is ruining the illusion. We need to find him.”

  Jason’s breath caught in his throat. What did that mean? What illusion?

  “God dammit, Lockhart! All this time, and it’s still the same! I want my boy back!”

  Jason’s heart skipped a beat at his mother’s desperate words. The weight of them crushed him in a way he couldn’t describe. Her boy? What was she talking about?

  The second voice came again, its calmness laced with a hint of coldness and even disgust: “He is NOT your boy, Mary. Remember that. If he heard you…”

  Jason’s blood ran cold. His hands trembled as he grasped the windowsill, his mind racing to piece together what was happening. What was happening? Who was the person they were speaking about? And why did he feel like he was at the center of something he didn’t understand?

  Another blinding flash of lightning split the night sky, followed almost instantly by a deafening crack of thunder that shook the very walls of the cabin. The storm outside raged with an intensity Jason had never seen before, as if the mountains themselves were alive, growling in the distance.

  On the porch, just beneath his window, the voices he had overheard moments ago still echoed in his mind, lingering like ghosts in the rain. The man—Lockhart—had spoken with unsettling certainty, his words cold and deliberate, carrying a weight Jason could not understand.

  "Keep him chained."

  What had he meant? Was he talking about Jason? And if so—chained how?

  Jason lay still in his bed, staring at the wooden ceiling above him, his thoughts running in circles. His heartbeat was steady, yet there was an unshakable unease pressing down on his chest, making it impossible to relax. The storm outside felt unnatural—an extension of whatever had been lurking in that conversation.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  The rain lashed against the open window, sending a faint chill into the room, the scent of damp wood and earth filling the air. He should have been tired. After everything that had happened today, his body should have been screaming for rest. And yet, he felt awake—too awake.

  His throat was dry.

  A drink of water. That would help.

  Without making a sound, Jason slid out of bed, his bare feet pressing against the cool wooden floor. The house was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of the storm outside. As he stepped out of his room and moved toward the stairs, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed—that the very air around him had shifted, thickened somehow, as if the house itself was watching.

  Descending carefully, he reached the bottom floor and turned toward the living room, where the fireplace still crackled softly, casting long shadows across the walls. There, nestled in her favorite chair, sat his mother.

  She wasn’t asleep, nor did she seem to notice his approach right away. She simply sat there, staring into the fire, her face illuminated by its warm glow. There was something almost… distant about her, as if she, too, were trapped in deep thought. An open book rested in her lap, its pages unmoving, forgotten.

  Jason hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. "Mom?"

  She flinched—only slightly—but quickly turned toward him, her face softening the moment she saw him.

  "Oh, Jason," she said gently, her voice filled with warmth, yet laced with something else—relief, perhaps? Or something more fragile? "What are you doing down here, honey? You can’t sleep?"

  "I just…" He paused, unsure of how to explain what he was feeling. "I wanted a glass of water."

  A simple answer. A safe one. Yet, something inside him screamed that this was his moment—that he had to ask, had to say something about what he had overheard.

  But then he met her gaze.

  Her eyes, filled with such tenderness, such love, instantly made his hesitation feel foolish. What reason could he possibly have to doubt her? She was his mother—the one person in the world who had always been there for him, who had always cared for him, who had never let him down.

  How could he question her now?

  "Mom…" He swallowed, feeling an unexpected weight in his chest. "Lately… I haven’t been feeling very well."

  She immediately set the book aside and opened her arms toward him, her entire expression shifting into one of deep concern. "Oh, sweetheart… come here. Sit with me. Let’s talk."

  Jason hesitated, but only for a moment. The way she looked at him—the way her voice wrapped around him, gentle and warm—made it impossible to refuse.

  He stepped forward, allowing himself to sink into the chair with her. She wasted no time pulling him close, pressing his head against her chest as her arms wrapped around him in a slow, deliberate motion.

  And in that instant, everything changed.

  The moment she touched him, a wave of comfort washed over him—warm and absolute, like stepping into a sunlit memory, like returning to a place he had long forgotten but had always longed for.

  Her fingers combed through his hair, moving in a soothing rhythm, sending gentle shivers down his spine. The steady rise and fall of her breathing, the soft, almost hypnotic way she held him—it was unlike anything else in the world.

  Jason exhaled deeply, his body melting into hers, the weight of his thoughts slipping away with each slow stroke of her hand.

  The storm outside became distant. The voices he had heard, the doubts, the strange conversation on the porch—it all faded, dissolving into nothing.

  What had he been thinking about just moments ago?

  It didn’t matter.

  All that mattered was her.

  Her warmth.

  Her touch.

  Her scent—soft, floral, laced with the faintest hint of vanilla—filled his senses, wrapping around him like a gentle cocoon. He felt as if he could stay like this forever, held in her arms, safe and loved.

  She kissed his forehead, and Jason felt something deep inside him relax—something he hadn’t even realized had been tense.

  A smile, small but genuine, tugged at his lips.

  "Mom… I… I forgot what I wanted to say," he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath.

  She held him closer, her hand gently cradling his face, her lips barely brushing against his temple as she whispered, "I love you, my sweet boy. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine."

  Her words were like a spell.

  Time became meaningless.

  Jason wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or hours since he had sat down. Or longer.

  The fire crackled beside them, the storm raged beyond the walls, yet none of it seemed real anymore.

  This was all that existed—this warmth, this feeling, this perfect, dreamlike moment.

  "Jason!"

  A voice.

  Not hers.

  A sharp, urgent voice cut through the haze in his mind.

  "Jason! You must resist!"

  His breathing hitched—just for a second.

  "Jason! RESIST IT, I KNOW IT’S HARD… BUT IT’S NOT REAL! JASON!!"

  Something flickered in his mind—a sliver of something distant. A memory? A warning? A truth trying desperately to claw its way back?

  His lips parted, as if to ask who was speaking. What’s not real?

  But before he could speak, his mother kissed his forehead again, slow and deliberate.

  And just like that, the doubt vanished.

  The warmth enveloped him, drowning out everything else.

  The voice in his head grew distant, muffled, like an echo fading into the void.

  His mother’s embrace was the only thing that mattered.

  Why had he ever questioned it?

  Why would he ever want to leave?

  The fire flickered. The storm whispered beyond the window. His mother’s heartbeat was steady, calming.

  Jason sighed softly.

  Then, slowly, peacefully—

  He closed his eyes.