Adam slowly opened his eyes. It wasn't like waking up suddenly from a bad dream, more like floating up from somewhere deep and dark.

  For a few moments, everything was a blur, just fuzzy shapes and colours swimming in front of him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to make things clear.

  There was a dull throb behind his eyes, and his whole body felt heavy and stiff, like he hadn't moved for hours. He realised he wasn't lying in a bed, but on something hard and kind of rough beneath his cheek.

  With a small groan, he pushed himself up. His muscles felt sore and unwilling. He sat on the edge of what he now saw was a park bench, the old wooden kind, worn smooth in places from countless people sitting there, but still cool and slightly damp. His bare feet touched the cold ground.

  He looked up. The light was soft, like just before the sun rises or just after it sets. The sky stretched out above him, huge and unfamiliar, painted in streaks of pale blue and soft gray. It hinted that a new day was starting, but it felt strange, not like any morning sky he remembered.

  A cool breeze drifted through the park, carrying the clean, damp smell of wet earth and grass that had maybe been cut recently. The same breeze rustled the leaves in the trees nearby, making a quiet, whispering sound. Far off, he could hear the first chirps of birds waking up, a gentle sound in the quiet park.

  He sat completely still for a minute, his mind feeling foggy, like trying to think through cotton wool.

  Where am I? The question bounced around in his head, but no answer came. This park, this bench, this sky – none of it looked familiar. How did I get here? He tried to remember, searching his mind, but it felt like a blank page, empty.

  There was just this weird feeling of being disconnected, like he was watching himself sitting there from somewhere far away.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus, hoping something would click. He ran his fingers over the rough wood of the bench. He noticed tiny drops of dew sparkling on the blades of grass near his feet. He saw dark, damp patches on the pavement where water had dried up.

  The leaves overhead shifted in the breeze, making shadows dance on the ground. Everything felt real – he could touch it, smell it, see it – but it still felt incredibly strange, like he didn't belong here.

  Then his eyes fell on a messy pile of stuff on the ground next to the bench. A couple of cheap-looking canvas bags, worn at the edges. A few notebooks with bent covers, pages sticking out. A rolled-up sleeping bag or maybe just a blanket.

  A plastic water bottle, about half-empty. With a sudden jolt, he recognized them. These are my things. His few possessions, just thrown there carelessly on the cold, hard ground.

  Seeing them like that, scattered and open, made a shiver run down his spine. These ordinary objects suddenly felt important, like they were silent proof that something big had just happened.

  Something that had completely smashed his old life and dumped him… here. Wherever 'here' was.

  It felt like the quiet moment right after a huge storm, after everything had been turned upside down, leaving him stranded in a place that felt both painfully familiar in its sadness and totally new and scary in its strangeness.

  As Adam slowly stood up, his joints cracking and complaining, bits and pieces of memories started floating up in his mind, like wreckage rising from the bottom of the sea.

  Memories he had tried so hard to forget, to push down deep inside him. He remembered a different life, one that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

  He pictured himself, younger, sitting at a desk in a busy office. The low hum of computers, the smell of slightly burnt coffee. He’d been just an ordinary office worker, living a normal, predictable life. Maybe it wasn't exciting, but it had been his. It had been stable. Safe.

  Then the memory turned dark. He saw the face of a powerful man – the city's mayor. He remembered not just the man, but his whole family, their influence spreading like a dark stain, twisting things, ruining things for people who got in their way.

  He remembered how they had systematically destroyed his own family. Lies had been told, accusations made up, sneaky plans carried out until his family had lost everything – their good name, their money, their home.

  The feeling of being completely powerless washed over him again, cold and sickening. They had been left with nothing but the bitter taste of loss and deep sadness.

  The memory was so clear, so sharp, it felt like it was happening right now, not years ago. Standing there in the quiet park, with every breath he took, he could feel that old anger and hurt starting to bubble up inside his chest again, hot and tight, making it hard to breathe.

  The unfairness of it all felt fresh, like a wound that had never healed.

  Lost in these dark thoughts, weighed down by the heavy memories, Adam started to automatically gather his belongings. His hands moved slowly, picking up a notebook, stuffing a stray T-shirt back into a bag.

  His mind wasn't really there; it was stuck replaying those awful moments when his life had gone wrong, spiraling down into misery.

  He remembered the exact moment everything started to fall apart, how the actions of that one powerful man had caused so much pain, a chain reaction of sadness that never seemed to end.

  The weight of it all felt like a physical pressure on his shoulders, and he could almost feel the cold grip of regret and despair squeezing his heart.

  Suddenly, his quiet sadness was shattered by loud, mean laughter. Adam jumped, looking up quickly. Two teenage boys stepped out from behind some nearby trees. They weren't smiling in a friendly way; they were smirking, their eyes shining with nasty fun.

  One of them, taller with messy hair falling over his eyes, swaggered forward. "Hey," he called out, his voice full of mockery. "Look who's still hanging around! We thought you'd have run off back to your village by now, especially after getting kicked out of university."

  The words hit Adam hard. Kicked out of university? That phrase felt wrong, out of place. It wasn't part of the story about the mayor ruining his family.

  But it did stir up another bad memory, a different kind of shame from his college days, a time he thought was long buried. This was confusing. Two different bad pasts seemed to be crashing together.

  Adam tried to ignore them. He looked down, pretending to be busy collecting his scattered things. He just wanted them to leave him alone. He fumbled with the strap on his bag, his fingers suddenly feeling thick and useless. Just ignore them, he told himself desperately. Maybe they'll get bored and go away.

  But these boys weren't the type to get bored when they sensed someone was scared or upset. They seemed to enjoy it. Instead of leaving, they started walking towards him, circling him slowly like sharks.

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  Their laughter got louder, more insulting, echoing off the trees. With every step they took closer, with every nasty laugh, that old, horrible feeling of dread crawled up Adam's back. It was the feeling of being trapped, watched, and totally powerless.

  The same humiliation he remembered from university – being pointed at, laughed at, made to feel small and worthless – washed over him again, strong and suffocating.

  Before Adam could sort out the confusing mix of memories – the mayor's fault, the university failure – or even think of what to say or do, one of the boys made a sudden move. It happened really fast. The shorter, heavier boy lunged forward. He swung his leg out in a rough kick, hitting Adam hard in the side, right near his waist.

  The kick was sharp and completely unexpected. Pain exploded in Adam's side, making him gasp and stumble forward off balance. The bags he'd just managed to pick up flew out of his hands again, spilling everything across the gritty road surface. Notebooks slid, a small coin purse burst open, sending coins rolling away.

  A hot, searing pain shot through his side. He automatically put his hands out to stop himself from falling completely, and they scraped hard against the rough pavement. He instantly felt the stinging burn as the ground tore at his skin.

  Looking down, he saw fresh red scratches on his palms and the back of his hands. Tiny drops of blood were already starting to appear. The stinging was sharp and very real – a clear message that this wasn't a dream. This pain was happening right now.

  The boys burst into even louder, crueler laughter. They bent over, laughing hard as they watched him struggle to stand up straight, clutching his aching side.

  "What's wrong? You gonna cry?" the taller one sneered, his voice full of nasty pleasure.

  "Look at you, freaking out over a little push! So weak!" His friend chimed in, "Yeah, look at the tough guy now, almost fell on his face!" Their words felt like rubbing salt into his wounds, both the physical ones on his hands and the emotional ones inside.

  For several long seconds, Adam just stood there, hunched over slightly, feeling dizzy and hurt. His eyes were glued to his scattered stuff, the fresh scratches on his hands bleeding slightly, the gray pavement under his feet.

  He tried to understand the sudden physical pain piled on top of the confusing memories and the awful humiliation. The sound of the boys' laughter seemed to fill the quiet morning air, mixing weirdly with the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant bird songs.

  The peacefulness of the park just made the cruelty feel even worse.

  Just as the boys seemed to be getting comfortable with their bullying, maybe thinking about doing something else, their mean tone softened a little. A small group of people, maybe three or four early morning walkers, appeared further down the path, heading towards them.

  Seeing other people seemed to make the boys pause. They shot quick looks at each other, their confidence suddenly shaky now that there were witnesses. Realizing things might get complicated, the two troublemakers quickly decided to leave.

  They started walking away, trying to look tough, but their swagger seemed forced now. As they were leaving, though, the taller one couldn't resist turning back and shouting one last threat over his shoulder. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly in the quiet air.

  "Don't think this is finished, loser… this was just a small warning. Wait till you see what John can really do. This is just a glimpse of John's power. Your real hell is about to begin."

  The name – John – slammed into Adam like a punch to the gut, colder and harder than the physical kick. It couldn't be just any John. The way the boy said it, the threat… it had to be him. John Walker.

  The mayor's son. The one who had played a big part in destroying his family, the person behind so much of the misery in his past memories. Hearing his name stirred up a scary mix of feelings deep inside Adam – a cold wave of fear washed over him, followed immediately by a sudden, hot surge of anger.

  This wasn't just about bad memories anymore. The threat felt real, aimed right at him, right now.

  He was alone again on the pavement. The group of walkers passed by, glancing at him with mild curiosity before continuing on their way. Adam slowly knelt down, wincing as the movement pulled at his bruised side. He gently looked at the scratches on his hands.

  He ran a finger lightly over the raw, stinging lines. Seeing his own blood, feeling the ache in his side, hearing the echo of that threat – it all felt too real, too solid to be just a nightmare.

  In a quiet voice, so soft it was almost a whisper, and trembling just a little, he muttered the words out loud, "Is this… is this a dream? Or is it really happening?" The question hung there in the still air, heavy with confusion and fear. It felt like the world was unsteady, like the line between what was real and what wasn't had become blurry and uncertain.

  Before he could get lost again in his confusing thoughts, one of the walkers, an older man with kind, wrinkled eyes and a worried look on his face, turned back and walked towards him. He must have seen what happened with the boys.

  "Kid," the man said, his voice gentle but serious. "You probably shouldn't hang around here. This part of town… it can be rough, especially this early. There are too many troublemakers around." His eyes looked warm and genuinely concerned, and for just a second, seeing that kindness, Adam felt a tiny spark of hope. Maybe not everyone was against him.

  Lowering his head a little, Adam replied softly, his voice still a bit shaky, "Thank you, sir. You're right. I'll… I'll get going."

  The stranger gave him a sympathetic nod and then walked off to rejoin his friends. Adam turned back to his scattered belongings one more time. He started picking them up again. His movements were still slow, but this time they felt a bit more determined.

  Each thing he put back in his bag – the dented water bottle, the notebook with the scuffed cover, the thin blanket – felt like taking back a tiny bit of control over a life that felt completely out of control and terrifying.

  As he carefully packed his things, his hands stinging every time he brushed them against something, the thought he'd been pushing away came back stronger. He whispered it quietly, the words barely audible,

  "This doesn't feel like a dream… The pain is real. That name… John Walker…" He took a shaky breath, his heart pounding. "Have I… Have I really gone back in time? Back to when it all started? To the moment everything began to go wrong?" The question filled him with a strange mix of fear and a weird kind of wonder. If it was true, it meant his terrible past wasn't just a memory anymore.

  It was happening now. And maybe, just maybe, that meant he had a chance to change things, a chance to fight back this time. But it also meant he had to live through the nightmare all over again.

  With his bags packed, Adam stood up straight, the dull ache in his side reminding him of the kick. He swung the bags onto his shoulder.

  They felt heavy, familiar, but somehow carried more weight now. He started walking again, heading down the quiet, empty street. His mind was a confusing mess of feelings – fear, anger, uncertainty, and that tiny, dangerous spark of possibility.

  The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze, the far-off hum of cars starting their day somewhere else, the occasional chirp of a bird – all these normal morning sounds seemed to highlight the chaos inside him.

  His heart beat fast and hard against his ribs as the image of John Walker burned in his mind. John Walker. Son of the mayor who ruined his family. The cruel person largely responsible for his past misery.

  And now, Adam understood with a chilling certainty that felt like ice spreading through his veins, John Walker was also the man who, in the future he thought he'd left behind, was supposed to kill him.

  Or maybe, the future he had somehow come back from. Just thinking about him, his smug attitude, his casual cruelty, lit a fierce fire of anger deep inside Adam.

  It wasn't just anger; it was a powerful need to get even, a deep desire for revenge that felt like the only way to make things right someday.

  But even as that fire for revenge burned inside him, cold reality hit him. He knew, absolutely, that he wasn't ready to face John Walker. Not yet. Not like this. He was hurt, physically from the attack and emotionally from the flood of terrible memories.

  His mind was still spinning, trying to understand what was happening, tangled up in the pain of past failures – his family's destruction, getting kicked out of university, all the times he'd felt helpless.

  Going after John Walker now would be stupid, dangerous. It might just repeat the same terrible story.

  Right now, the most important thing, the only smart thing, was to survive. He needed to find somewhere safe. A place where he could rest his aching body, clean his scraped hands, and most importantly, try to figure things out.

  He needed time to think, to understand if he really was back in time, and what that meant. He needed to get stronger, physically and mentally. The sky was getting lighter, the gray turning to pale blue, but the real sunrise still felt far off, and the quiet city streets could hide dangers in their shadows.

  In the middle of all these worried, racing thoughts, another memory surfaced. This one was different, softer, warmer. It felt like a small light turning on in the darkness.

  Adam remembered a time, during one of the worst periods of his past life – maybe right after his family lost everything, or maybe later when he was really down – when a friend had helped him out, offered him a place to stay. A real friend, someone who hadn't abandoned him when things got bad.

  The memory brought a tiny, weak smile to his lips. It wasn't much, but it was real. That friend… their kindness had felt like a lifeline back then, a small light showing the way when everything seemed hopeless.

  Remembering that kindness now gave him a little bit of strength, an idea. Maybe… maybe that friend could help him again? If this really was the past, was that friend still here? Would they still be willing to help?

  With a little bit of new determination cutting through his fear, Adam gripped his bags tighter, adjusting the straps on his aching shoulder. He started walking again, his steps slow but steady, moving along the empty road. He had to get off this street, find somewhere safer, less exposed.

  The street was poorly lit by only a few streetlights spaced far apart. Their weak, yellow glow cast long, stretched-out shadows on the pavement that seemed to move and twist like his own anxious thoughts.

  The air was still cool and crisp, carrying the smell of damp earth. Every little sound – the dry rustle of a leaf blowing across the road, the faint hum of a distant car fading away, the soft scuff of his own worn shoes on the pavement – seemed extra loud in the quiet, reminding him of how alone and unsure he was in this strange new reality.

  At one point, as he passed a dark corner where the shadows were deepest, Adam stopped walking. He paused for a moment and looked up at the sky.

  The city lights hadn't completely blocked it out yet. Above the haze, the sky was clear, and a few bright stars still shone, like tiny, faraway diamonds sprinkled on black cloth.

  They looked impossibly distant, beautiful but cold, offering no real answers, just silent witnesses to his confusion in the darkness below.

  For just a second, the huge, quiet beauty of the night sky calmed his racing mind. It made his problems feel small for an instant. But the peace didn't last. It was too fragile. Almost right away, the harsh memories rushed back in – his ruined family, the boys' mocking laughter, the threat about John Walker, the sting in his hands.

  The brief warmth he'd felt looking at the stars vanished, replaced by the cold, hard truth of the life he'd lost, the life he might have to live through again, and the huge, scary challenges waiting for him on this path he never asked to be on.

  He lowered his eyes from the stars, his jaw set with determination mixed with dread, and kept walking into the slowly arriving dawn, feeling like he was carrying the weight of two lifetimes on his shoulders.