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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Open_Exchange4981 on 2026-07-08 22:08:17+00:00.
You should look both ways before you cross the road. Don’t wear noise cancelling headphones while you walk. Everyone tells you about these things for a reason, but I’m absent-minded, and John Carpenter dropped a new album. I didn’t see the car that hit me. From what I learned after, the accident was pretty grisly. I lost a lot of skin to the pavement, and I lost a lot of time. Brain bleeds can do that. They call them intercranial hematomas—a burst blood vessel that causes pressure on your brain. As you can imagine, not something that you want to happen to you. Recovery takes anywhere from six months to years, and your life will probably never be the same again. If you need to know more, talk to a doctor, I’m just the guy with brain damage.
What was life like before the accident? I’m in my twenties and broke, so not great. I wasn’t born a millionaire or anything. I’m just a normal guy from a small town that moved to the city. My dad works at a lumber mill, and my mom works at Home Depot.
I worked with mom at Home Depot. That was how I saved money to move to the city. Here, I got a job at a privately-owned hardware store. I think I’m one of the only checkout tellers left on Earth.
At least, I was. They ‘couldn’t hold onto my job for me’ after the accident.
It’s okay, the settlement from the accident paid for my hospital bills and for rent. I’ll be okay for a year, maybe two if I budget well. Still, that’s not much for having your brain scrambled like mine. If I could take it all back and be normal, I totally would, because things are fucked up.
When I arrive home, my roommate has taken over the place. I don’t recognise anything. My room is a gaming room. It has only been a six months since the accident. He put everything I had into the storage unit downstairs, and told me to get what I needed while he figured out where to put his PS5. Yeah, he’s a PS5 type of guy. That should tell you everything you need to know.
I’m not in great shape. My body is bandaged. My face got sheared off, so my nose and cheekbones needed to be reconstructed. Overall, I feel like dogshit. My head is splitting. I don’t remember certain things about who I am. Yeah, I forgot to tell you that. I have brain damage. My roommate is a shadow of a memory; I don’t really remember him.
He’s know me. He makes jokes that he thinks I should understand, but they’re not funny. His eyes are weird, like yellow and brown at the same time—he looks feral.
I take the keys to the storage unit, and head downstairs. The storage room in the building’s basement. The storage lockers are made out of chain link fencing and 2x4s.
The first thing I notice in our storage locker is an ornate mirror, and it’s not one something I recognize. It’s huge—ten feet high, six feet wide, and heavy. I find myself gazing into it. The surface isn’t as smooth as most modern mirrors, its slightly rippled. It sucks me in.
I end up staring at myself. It’s something I haven’t done since waking up. My relationship with my body has changed. It doesn’t feel right sometimes. I don’t know if you understand that, so let me try to explain. Like, I died. I died, and then came back to life, and there are times when—when I disassociate. My consciousness separates and I’m float in the background. You could say that I’m kind of like a gamer in my own body. Like, I have a joystick, and the body does what I want it to most of the time. But, sometimes, it does things I don’t want it to. Like, I’ll find myself standing somewhere that I don’t remember. Things like that. It’s like someone takes the joystick from my hands, and drives me around.
So, staring at myself I feel that step back—out of my body. While I’m back there, I become fascinated with my hair. I remember being a brunette, but now I’m blonde. My eyes were brown, the most common eyes, and now they’re green. I hadn’t noticed that until now. I have a small tattoo on my left shoulder, something I got to commemorate my graduation—it’s a rose. I pull up my sleeve to see if it’s there. It isn’t. I pull up my shirt, looking for the birthmark I have above my belly button. It’s shaped like an UFO, or a mushroom cap; it’s not there.
I should say, as I’m searching my body, my hands are moving themselves. Like, I’m curious about what they should be doing, and they’re doing that, but they’re also doing their own thing.
The bandages on my face are supposed to stay on until a nurse comes to change them, but the hands make their way up to my face.
“Yo, Scott.” My roommates voice. The hands stop. “You’ve been gone for like an hour and a half, man. You good?”
I fall back into my body, and turn my head to look at….
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Dylan, bro.” I don’t remember his name being Dylan. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him before. He has those feral eyes, but his face seems different from what it was a few hours ago. “You need some help with anything?”
I look at the mirror one more time, see the bandages on my face ripple like there’s something moving under them—under my skin.
“You know, I think I’m just going to get an air mattress. And some bedding.”
‘Dylan’ smiles at me.
“That’s rad. It’s going to take me longer than I thought to clear out the room. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you back right away.”
“Dylan?” I cross the room to stand next to him. I want to see his yellowed eyes when he answers my question.
“Yeah?”
“How did we meet?”
I lose time and come back to at the hardware store I used to work at. I’m staring at myself in a mirror. This mirror is small when compared the one in the storage locker. My hair seems more ash-coloured now, but it’s still blonde. I can’t seem to work my hands properly. If I could I would consider taking the bandages off.
“Can I help you?” The voice seems familiar.
I turn around. There’s a woman standing there. She’s late 20s. Lots of dark makeup. A wristful of friendship bracelets. Kind of goth. There’s something I recognize about her.
“Yeah,” I say. “This is going to seem weird, but do you recognize me.”
She laughs at that. “Kind of hard with all the….” She gestures to her face.
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that. I used to work here.” She stands on her tiptoes as though that will help her see through the bandages. “My name is Scott.”
There’s a moment where she thinks, and then she steps away from me.
“Um…I don’t think I know you.” She takes another step back away from me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “I’m just looking for an air mattress.”
Her feet are nervously moving as she points me to aisle five.
“Is your name Tiffany?” I ask before she leaves.
“Yeah.” Now she’s really scared of me. “How did you know?” I move to leave, but she puts a hand on my arm. “I’m serious, how did you know?”
I find myself looking at the mirror again. My eyes are blue. They shouldn’t be that colour.
I lose time, and I’m back in my apartment. I have a box with a blow-up mattress in one hand. I’m in the bathroom. I raise my hand to my face and notice one of Tiffany’s friendship bracelets around my wrist. A Post-It note is wrapped around it. I peel it off and read it. It reads, Don’t trust anyone. Especially Dylan. I stare at the note for some time. During that time, I feel myself lose control of my body. My fingertips touch the surface of the Post-It, feeling each letter one by one. Then, my body exits the bathroom, and I float along with it.
Dylan sits at the table with someone. They look up at me as I arrive.
“Scott, your friend is here,” Dylan states, but he isn’t looking at me as he says it. He’s looking at the man sitting beside him. The man has brown hair and brown eyes. He turns his face to look at me….
I lose time again. I’m sitting in a white office in front of someone I assume is a doctor.
“I don’t think this body is mine.” I hear myself say, but I’m surprised when I say it.
The doctor stares at me. “So, does the body feel like it isn’t yours? Or do you truly think that this body isn’t yours?”
I shift on the seat, uncomfortable. “I know I’m Scott. I think I know I’m Scott. It’s just that, I think I saw someone else who has my body.”
The doctor thinks, a look of pity streaked across his face. I’ve never much liked doctors, but this one seems alright.
“You’ve been in a serious accident, Mark. There are times when you have to….”
“Scott. My name is Scott.”
The doctor refers to his phone. “My records say that your name is Mark.” He stands up. “Listen, I’ll get the nurse in here to change your bandages, and we’ll book you in for a psych consulation.”
I walk home to my apartment. My roommate is in his room, so I sit down at the kitchen table. I haven’t spent much time here, so I look around. Pictures of Dylan are scattered around the entire apartment. The fridge is filled with a lot of them. In one of them, Dylan stands in front of a keg holding up a woman legs as they do a keg stand. I recognize her. Its Tiffany. She has friendship bracelets around her arm. That’s when I notice myself standing behind them. Brown hair. Brown eyes. My nose was thick back then. They must have met because of me. I take the picture down from the fridge. Dylan will know how they met. I walk to his room to ask him, and as I stop to knock, I hear him through the door.
“He’s dangerous. I don’t feel safe anymore. There’s too m…
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