2

Then, a sudden jolt.

She gasps, inhaling sharply as if she’s been drowning. Her eyes snap open, but everything around her is blurred, shifting unnaturally like a dream she can’t wake up from. Her body aches like it was beaten to death, her head throbs, and there’s a metallic taste in her mouth. The air is thick damp, heavy, tinged with something foul. Blood?

She pushes herself upright with shaky arms. The floor beneath her is hard and uneven not cold concrete like the station platform, but something rougher. Wood?

Water? Blood? Wood? She don't know anything.

The dim light above flickers erratically, casting shadows that seem to twist and move on their own. She glances around, and her stomach knots. She’s inside a train compartment. But this isn’t the one she remembers, the one where she was travelling just before she black out. The seats were old and dust-ridden, their fabric torn and frayed. The metal walls were rusted, streaked with something dark, A dark scripted words or signs no one knows. The scent of decay lingers in the air, mingled with dampness and something unnervingly but familiar to her.

She force herself to breathe evenly. Think hardly.

She remembers getting off the train. She remembers seeing the missing poster with her own picture on it, which was newly hanged like she had been missing recently, but was she?. She remembers the sharp pain in her skull before everything went black. So how is she back on the train?

Just How? The only question which comes in her might right now. How? how? and just HOW?

Her fingers instinctively curl around something in her palm. She looks down and realizes she’s still holding the key. It’s warm against her skin, pulsing faintly, like it’s alive. Like it's giving her a signal to use, like it wants her to use it.

A soft creak breaks the silence.

Her breath hitches. Footsteps slow, but deliberate, echoing through the empty compartment. The sound of shoes brushing against wood, growing closer. She clenches the key tighter, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

She turns her head slowly.

At the far end of the compartment, near the connecting door, The woman is standing. She looks familiar to her.

Her silhouette is barely illuminated by the flickering overhead light. She’s still wearing that black dress, its fabric clinging to her frame like a shadow. Her hair, once loose and flowing, now drapes over her face, obscuring her features. But even without seeing her eyes, she knows she’s being watched. By her like she knows her way more then herself and it gives her a cold feeling inside her heart.

“You were supposed to stay,” the woman murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it reverberates through the empty space like a command and right through her eyes like it was directly only said to her in whispers.

Her stomach twists. “Stay where?” Her own voice comes out hoarse, and weak.

The woman takes a step forward. The lights flicker again, and for a brief moment, the entire compartment is plunged into darkness. When the light returns, the woman is closer.

“You left,” the woman says, tilting her head. “But you never really did.”

A sharp ringing fills her ears. She grips the key tighter, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I don’t belong here,” she whispers.

“I don’t even remember being here.”

The woman moves again slowly, but it isn’t a normal step it’s as if the space around her shifts, pulling her forward without effort. One moment, she’s at the end of the compartment; the next, she’s only a few feet away from her.

“But the train remembers,” she says softly.

Then suddenly she reaches out her cold fingers brushing against her tightly gripped wrist.

And.. Everything changes.

Just like a blink of an eye.

She is no longer inside the train.

She is somewhere else.

Rain pours heavily around her. The scent of wet earth fills her nostrils. The station lights flicker weakly, their glow barely reaching the slick pavement. The sound of distant thunder rumbles through the air.

She sees herself. Standing right in front of herself.

Standing on the platform. Holding the ticket. Her posture is rigid, her face void of emotion. She isn’t trembling. She isn’t confused. She knows exactly what she’s doing, where she is going.

The 11:45 train arrives. That exact time. That exact time.

The doors slide open. Without hesitation, she steps inside.

The train doors close. The train departs.

And she vanishes. Just Infront of her eyes completely.

A breath catches in her throat, and just like that, the vision shatters around her. She stumbles back, her pulse roaring in her ears like a loud drums.

No. That didn’t happen. She didn’t she doesn’t remember, not coming there neither taking the ticket.

The train, ticket, platform, her leaving at the exact time, Everything was too much for her.

The woman only watches, her expression unreadable. “But the train remembers,” she repeats.

A deafening screech fills the air. The entire compartment shudders violently. The lights flicker, buzz, and then explode, plunging everything into pitch-black darkness.

And the last thing she hears before everything fades is the whisper, curling around her like smoke tangling her to death-

“It’s coming back for you.”

Again.

When she wakes, the world is different. Like the one before this never existed.

She’s lying on her back, the scent of damp earth still clinging to her. But she isn’t on the train anymore.

She’s back at the station, The earlier One.

The same cracked walls. The same peeling signs. The same oppressive fog rolling across the empty platform. Like she never left.

She pushes herself up, her head still throbbing. A single dim light flickers above, barely illuminating the area. The station is silent way too silent. No trains. No people. Just emptiness stretching beyond sight.

Then, she sees it.

The missing poster.

She doesn’t want to look, but her feet move on their own, bringing her closer. The ink is fresh. The paper isn’t faded anymore. The edges aren’t torn or weathered.

Her own face stares back at her.

"Missing: Last Seen at the Station. Boarding the 11:45 Train."

Her blood runs cold.

A sharp, unbearable weight presses against her skull. Her mind swirls with fragmented images the train, the woman, the passengers with their bowed heads, the whispers calling her name.

Then a sharp pain hit her.

A searing, blinding pain that forces her to her knees. She clutches her head, the world tilting beneath her. The sound of screeching wheels floods her ears again, and a voice she doesn’t recognize but somehow knows, whispers one final thing before the darkness consumes her once more.

“It’s time to board.”

The first thing she felt before waking up was the sharp ache pulsing behind her closed eyes. The sensation of cold, rough concrete against her skin followed next, grounding her to reality or at least, whatever this time was.

A slow inhale. The scent of damp air and rust clung to her lungs, metallic and old. The faintest hum of something distant, rhythmic like the turning of gears, lingered at the edges of her hearing. It was different from the train station she had last seen before everything blacked out. This place felt ancient, untouched, forgotten, like something which is lost in time.

She forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly as her vision adjusted. The dim lighting barely illuminated the space around her. Old, flickering bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting elongated shadows across the cracked tile floor. The walls were damp, streaked with something dark she refused to acknowledge. She was underground. Somewhere deep from the normal ground.

Her hands pressed against the floor, pushing herself up into a seated position. A sharp pain lanced through her temples, causing her to wince. She reached up instinctively, her fingers brushing against something warm and sticky. Blood. Not much, but enough to set her nerves on edge.

She wasn’t alone.

A shuffling sound echoed through the corridor, the scuff of boots against stone. Her breath hitched as she turned her head slowly, her pulse pounding in her ears. A figure stood at the end of the hallway, half-hidden in the shadows. The silhouette was tall, unmoving, watching.

The air around her grew impossibly still.

“Who’s there?” Her voice cracked slightly, the lingering effects of unconsciousness making her throat dry. The figure didn’t answer, but the silence stretched unnaturally, pressing against her skin like a tangible weight.

Then, the footsteps began again closer and way closer this time.

She scrambled back, her hands scraping against the rough surface behind her. Panic flared in her chest, but before she could make a move, a voice cut through the air. Low, deliberate.

“You shouldn’t have come back.”

Her breath caught. That voice. It was the same one from before, from the station. The man who had warned her. The one who had left behind the train ticket to her purposely.

“What is happening to me?” she demanded, forcing steel into her voice despite the tremble in her hands. “What is this place?”

The figure stepped forward, allowing the dim light to catch his features. He was older than she had initially thought, lines of exhaustion carved into his face. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered with something between frustration and unease.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he said softly, almost pitying.

She clenched her jaw. “Remember what?”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before crouching down to her level. “You’ve been here before.”

Her head shook instinctively. “That’s impossible. I-”

But the moment she started to argue, images surged forward like a crashing tide. Flashes of movement. A train. A tunnel. The overwhelming scent of something burning. A scream of a girl... She remembers the voice, it's her own?

She gasped, clutching at the sides of her head as pain seared through her skull. The man didn’t move to help her, only watching with an unreadable expression.

“You’re starting to wake up,” he murmured. “But you don’t have much time.”

She sucked in a breath, steadying herself. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, glancing down the dark corridor before meeting her gaze again. “They know you’re here.”

A chill ran through her. “Who?”

A flicker of hesitation. Then, “The ones who never left.”

The words sent ice curling down her spine.

Before she could demand an explanation, a deep, echoing sound reverberated through the space. A distant, guttural wail, hollow and unnatural. The man tensed, his posture shifting instantly to something more defensive.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone which defines no argument .

Adrenaline surged through her limbs as she scrambled to her feet sloppily. The moment she did, the atmosphere around them shifted. The lights above flickered more erratically, the air itself seeming to tremble.

“Run.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She bolted after him as he led the way through the underground passage, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The sound of pursuit followed them, echoing unnaturally as if coming from everywhere at once.

They turned a sharp corner, nearly colliding into a rusted metal door. The man yanked it open, shoving her inside before slamming it shut behind them. The heavy clang reverberated through the air, sealing them in momentarily.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm the frantic pounding of her heartbeat. “What the hell was that?”

The man leaned against the door, his expression grim. “You don’t want to know.”

She stared at him, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You keep saying I’ve been here before. That I should remember. But I don’t! What am I supposed to do? Pretend I understand when none of this makes sense does this really?”

His gaze was steady but without any expression. “Then it’s time you start remembering.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but the moment she did, something shifted. The air grew thicker, heavier, and a new wave of images crashed into her mind. This time, they weren’t fragmented. They were vivid. Real.

She saw herself, standing on a different platform, her reflection visible in the glass window of a train that shouldn’t exist. The same missing poster, but the name beneath her image wasn’t hers it was something else. Something old.

But did that make her relief? She doesn't feel anything.

And then, a voice not hers, not the man’s, but something far more ancient, whispering directly into her mind.

“You never left.”

The breath in her lungs stilled.

Her knees gave out, but the man caught her before she hit the ground. His grip was firm but not unkind.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

He exhaled, something like regret flickering in his expression. “You will.”

The distant wailing returned, closer this time. The door behind them rattled violently.

“We have to move,” he said, pulling her up.

She nodded, the pieces of her past still disjointed, but one thing was clear.

She wasn’t just lost in a mystery.

She was part of this Mystery.

A part of a Mystery which she didn't remember. But she is willing to solve it.

But will she be able to do that? Was the girl in the poster herself? But the name wasn't her's. Was that someone in past or now who looks exactly same as her? But the keys and ticket, how they ended up in her room, her life?

She doesn't have any answer of all this questions neither she wants to answer it to herself till, Till she find the solution in her Own.

A sharp pain pulses behind her eyes as she regains consciousness. The cold ground beneath her sends chills through her body, and the scent of damp air lingers in her lungs. Slowly, she pushes herself up, her fingers brushing against the rough concrete of the station floor. For a brief moment, she forgets where she is. Then her gaze lands on the missing poster.

Her face. But not her name or maybe hers she didn't know. The details of her disappearance staring back at her like a cruel joke, like its laughing while looking at her own face. But she wasn’t missing. She was here. Isn’t she?

A cold dread settles over her as she forces herself to stand, swaying slightly. The station is way too quiet now, different from the crowded, noisy place she remembers before she lost consciousness. The dim lights flicker erratically, casting long, wavering shadows along the platform.

She glances around, hoping to find a familiar face, a sign that this is all some elaborate mistake. But the station is empty. No people. No trains. Nothing, just Nothing.

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