Collision of Souls

Chapter 3: Collision of Souls

Ben stood on the edge of the overpass, his vision blurred by tears and his mind consumed by despair. He felt the weight of the world pressing down on him, suffocating him with its relentless darkness. The sounds of the city below were drowned out by the tumultuous thoughts racing through his head.

"This is it," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible over the din of traffic below. "I can't do this anymore."

He closed his eyes, steeling himself for the final leap, when a voice shattered the silence around him.

"Hey! Stop!"

Ben's eyes snapped open, and he turned to see a man running towards him. The man's face was lined with age and experience, his expression a mix of urgency and concern. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, reaching out towards Ben.

Before Ben could respond, the world around them erupted into chaos. A deafening horn blared through the air, followed by the screech of tires against pavement. Ben's eyes widened in horror as he turned towards the sound, realizing too late what was about to happen.

A truck, its headlights blazing like twin beacons in the night, careened towards them at breakneck speed. The man—Alex—reacted with lightning speed, pushing Ben away from the edge just as the truck barreled past them.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ben and Alex were thrown into the air, tossed like rag dolls by the impact. The world became a blur of motion and sound, a cacophony of screams and shattering glass. Pain exploded through Ben's body as he collided with the unforgiving pavement, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of the crash.

As consciousness slipped away from him, Ben caught a fleeting glimpse of Alex's body lying motionless nearby, blood pooling beneath him. Panic surged through Ben as darkness closed in around him, enveloping him in a cold, suffocating embrace.

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When Ben regained consciousness, he was lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by the sterile white walls of a recovery room. The steady beep of machines filled the air, punctuated by the soft murmur of voices in the distance.

He tried to move, only to be met with a sharp jolt of pain that radiated through his entire body. Groaning, he blinked against the harsh glare of overhead lights, struggling to make sense of what had happened.

"You're awake," a voice said beside him, startling him out of his haze. Ben turned his head slowly, his gaze falling on a nurse who was adjusting the IV drip beside his bed. Concern etched her features as she regarded him with a mixture of relief and worry.

"What... what happened?" Ben managed to croak, his throat dry and raw.

The nurse offered him a sympathetic smile, her eyes filled with compassion. "You were in an accident," she explained gently. "You were hit by a truck. Do you remember anything?"

Ben's brow furrowed as he strained to recall the events leading up to the crash. Flashes of memory flickered through his mind—standing on the overpass, Alex reaching out to him, the blaring horn of the truck.

And then, a sudden realization struck him like a lightning bolt. He looked down at his hands, his breath catching in his throat. They were larger, rougher than he remembered, bearing the scars of a life lived on the edge.

Panic surged through him as he reached for the mirror on the bedside table, his hands trembling uncontrollably. He held it up to his face, staring at the reflection with wide-eyed disbelief.

The face staring back at him was not his own.

It was Alex's.

A thousand questions raced through Ben's mind, but one thought burned brighter than the rest—what had happened to him? Where was his own body? And who was he now, trapped in a stranger's skin?

To be continued...

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