Last night, again. The images replayed with sharp precision - his hands, stained, trembling. faces frozen in shock, the sound of shattering glass, the metallic taste of fear lingering in the air. He remembered every detail, every moment. But he couldn't place the moment. Not in his waking life, at least.

he tried to tell himself it was just a nightmare. But nightmares didn't leave marks.

Oliver swung his legs over the bed and caught a glimpse of his trembling hands beneath the bedside lamp's dim light. Nothing usual. Yet, the nagging feeling refused to fade.

His phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. The screen glowed with a message notification.

Unknown Number: Did you get rid of the problem?

His breath hitched. The message wasn't meant to reach him. He had never shared that number with anyone. His fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating.

Was this a joke? A mistake? Or something far more dangerous?

Suddenly, the pieces of his fractured reality began to align. The blurry line separating his dreams from his actions started to dissolve. Oliver's pulse quickened - could the things he dreamed be happening for real? Worse, could he be the one committing those acts?

He rubbed his eyes hard, desperate to shake the dread creeping into his thoughts. But the truth clawed its way forward, relentless.

The last two weeks had been a haze of confusion and fear. Each night, vivid dreams invaded his mind, scenes of violence and betrayal unfolding with unsettling clarity. And each morning, fragments of those dreams haunted his waking hours - news of crimes he didn't remember committing, whispers of a shadowy figure matching his description, and the growing suspicion in the eyes of those around him.

Oliver's apartment felt like a cage tightening with every passing day. The walls echoed with silence, but his mind roared with unanswered questions.

He needed answers.

And he knew where to start.