Deep in her mind, a whisper echoed: You’ve lost your way. Was that it? She returned to her bed, made herself comfortable, and summoned the staircase in her thoughts. Quickly, she descended into her subconscious. Enough questions without answers.

  “Hello,” a small girl greeted.

  She was sitting in a meadow Alice had created long ago. Fluffy little rabbits hopped around her, and a soft spring breeze cooled the air. Everything looked perfect, and yet something felt off, like a wrong note in an otherwise flawless melody, off-key but only detectable by intuition.

  “Is something wrong?” the girl asked, studying Alice carefully.

  “There’s something not right about this place,” Alice whispered, stepping forward to lift the child into her arms. “Can you feel it?”

  “Yes. I don’t like it here at all.”

  “Then why are you sitting here?” Alice asked, confused.

  “Because you told me to. You created this for me, and you told me I had to be happy here.”

  “But you’re not happy.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s all a lie,” the girl answered softly. “A lie you used to cover up the truth.”

  “What truth?” Alice’s heart pounded wildly.

  The child in her arms began to cry quietly. Suddenly the entire scene rippled, then vanished for a moment before returning to its original form. Except now, a tall woman stood beside them.

  “The truth about you, Alice. The truth about us,” the woman said, lighting a cigarette.

  And somehow the cigarette felt right. As she smoked, her face etched itself into Alice’s memory. Alice gently placed the child back on the ground, straightened, and began to speak slowly:

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who you are or why you’re here. I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong, why little Alice is crying, or why I feel so… misplaced. But I do know this: whatever you’re about to tell me will change me. Maybe even destroy me. Still, I can’t keep waiting. I need answers.”

  “But once you hear them, everything will change,” the little girl sobbed, this time without holding back.

  “And you won't become a saint,” the woman added with a wicked smile.

  She had almost, almost, managed to memorize her face.

  “You won't save the world, that’s for sure.”

  “I know. I figured that out,” Alice sighed heavily. “I’ve known for a long time. There was always this quiet voice, deep inside my head, whispering it to me. Too bad I never wanted to listen.”

  “Too bad,” the woman replied, turning to walk away.

  “Wait!” Alice shouted, running after her, but the woman vanished into thin air.

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  Alice spun on her heel and turned to the girl, who was now slowly calming down.

  “She’s gone. Now what? She didn’t tell me anything.”

  “She didn’t need to,” the subconscious whispered. “You’ll find out everything soon enough. She only came to confirm that you’re ready.”

  “And am I?” Alice asked nervously.

  The child shrugged and lay down on the soft green grass.

  “You never will be,” she said, closing her eyes. “You’ll die when you learn the truth.”

  “Die? Why? I feel fine, I…”

  “You’ll die as a consciousness. You’ll be replaced by the real one. The Alice we all help create, the sum of all our parts, will live on. Only a piece of her will die, and something else will take its place. The voice you’ve been hearing all this time, the one warning you since birth… that’s Alice’s consciousness. The real one. You are just an artificial construct born of unreal dreams. Don’t you see it? You’re hurting Alice. You keep walking the false path, and your judgment is always skewed.”

  “But…” Alice stumbled back in horror, “…I mean…”

  “You’re still painfully limited. You think you are the whole, but the truth is, Alice’s consciousness has already died three times in this life.”

  “What? How?”

  “Once, when her parents died and the world she knew fell apart. A second time, when the man in the forest died and she had to stop being a child. And a third time, when a stranger tried to rape her at the guesthouse. Now it’s your turn to die. If it’s any comfort, this time whole Alice will feel it more clearly than ever, and it will leave a deep mark on her life.”

  The consciousness collapsed to the ground. She stared at the child, not understanding. She simply couldn’t, just like the girl had said, disconnect herself from Alice, who lived in the real world. Was it truly possible that she was only a fragment? The subconscious looked at her with chilling indifference.

  “You have to go now,” the child said softly.

  Alice struggled to her feet and walked toward the staircase that had materialized beside her, but before she stepped onto it she turned one last time to the little girl and asked,

  “Do you feel sorry for me?”

  “No. I never liked you. You nearly ruined everything.”

  Tears streamed down the consciousness’s cheeks. Words like that should never come from a child’s mouth. She stepped onto the staircase and didn’t look back.

  “That was a bit harsh,” the woman said to the child.

  “I told the truth.”

  “I know. Enjoy your freedom. Once her true consciousness wakes up, this life is going to become hell for us.”

  The woman grinned, finished her cigarette, and vanished. The girl began to cry quietly.

  Of them all, only she knew the entire truth.

  Alice woke up slightly shaken. She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then slowly got out of bed. Reality had suddenly become so unreal that it felt like it was slipping through her fingers. Outside the window, the first heavy storm clouds had gathered. For once, the weather matched her mood.

  It had been a busy day. The ones that followed were just the same, and the days to come promised no change. But it wasn’t the number of tasks, oh no, it was the constant effort to maintain the illusion. The smile on her lips, the absent-minded air, the carefree jokes. Helena and Walery, Gregory… They couldn’t know what was festering in the heart of the girl under their care. She didn’t want to know either. Whatever it was, it grew darker with each passing day. Sometimes she even felt that the stronger it became, the faster her mind began to unravel. Alice was hollowing out. Her most basic human instincts were beginning to vanish. She no longer found joy in small things. She did everything at the designated time, as if someone had set an internal alarm that counted down the minutes to the next moment of effort. And every time she realized it, she wanted to speed up the moment when those damn hands of the clock would stop for good.

  But there was another reason it was so hard. She was fighting — still fighting — herself. She couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t complain. And if it ever came to it, there was no one she could ask for help. The worst part? She didn’t even really understand it. Something inside her just whispered that all those times she had told herself her childhood was over… well, they turned out to mean nothing. She was only now about to truly grow up. That’s where the darkness came from. That feeling of finality. That fear.

  In her mind she kept seeing the man with long black hair and cold eyes. Would he support her now? Would he stand by her decisions? Would he be able to help? She didn’t seek answers to those questions. Didn’t even try to guess. She simply knew. He had been preparing her for this. Everything he had said, everything he had done, had pointed her toward this exact moment. And now she missed him with a sharp, aching clarity.