The world shrank to the sound of his heartbeat.
Leo ran.
His shoes pounded against the pavement, lungs burning as he tore down the quiet suburban street. The man's footsteps followed, heavy, uneven, desperate. Leo didn't dare look back. His body moved on instinct, driven by raw panic and the echo of that gleaming knife under the fading light.
He cut a corner sharply, nearly slipping on the curb. The air was thick with adrenaline, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He hadn't even processed why this was happening, who the hell was this guy? Why him?
Then came the voice.
"You did this!" the man shouted, his tone cracked, hoarse, drenched in fury. "It's your fault! All of it! Why, why did you…"
Leo's pulse spiked. The words made no sense, yet the anguish in them felt disturbingly real, almost personal. He stumbled, his foot catching on the edge of a sidewalk tile. The world tilted, and before he could recover, a weight slammed into him from behind.
They hit the ground hard. The impact knocked the air from Leo's chest. Pain shot through his ribs as the man straddled him, pressing him down. The knife flashed again, trembling inches from his face.
Leo grabbed the man's wrist with both hands, pushing back with every ounce of strength he had. The man's eyes were wild, bloodshot, filled with something that wasn't just rage, it was grief, guilt, madness.
"Why?!" the man screamed again, spit flying, voice raw.
Leo didn't understand a word. His arms shook, muscles screaming as the blade inched closer, closer.
Then a voice shouted nearby, "Hey! Stop!"
Someone lunged in, a blur of movement, tackling the man off of him. The knife clattered onto the pavement, spinning away. Leo rolled onto his side, gasping for breath, his vision swimming.
Two more people rushed over from across the street. One of them, a woman with graying hair and a phone pressed to her ear, called for help. The man on top of Leo struggled weakly in the stranger's grip, his strength fading fast.
"It's all his fault…" he muttered, voice breaking into a whisper. "He ruined everything…"
Then, as if the words had drained the last of his energy, his body went limp. He collapsed, unconscious, the knife lying useless beside him.
Leo stared at the man, the weapon, his trembling hands. None of it felt real. The world around him blurred into murmurs and sirens in the distance.
"Hey," a gentle voice said. The woman with the phone crouched beside him, concern etched across her face. "It's over, okay? You're safe now. Just… walk away, kid. You don't need to see this."
Leo swallowed hard, his throat dry. "My, my bike's at the end of the street," he managed, voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded softly. "Then go. Take a breath. Get home safe."
Leo pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaky but obedient. He glanced once more at the unconscious man, the stranger who had called him by guilt that wasn't his. Then he turned and walked toward his bike, the sound of distant sirens chasing him into the fading evening light.
Leo rode home in silence.
The wind should have felt freeing against his face, but it didn't. Every gust carried fragments of thought he couldn't piece together, the dream from this morning, the man's voice, the wild accusations that meant nothing and yet sounded so certain.
"You did this."
"You weren't supposed to come back."
The words looped in his head like a broken record. He gripped the handlebars tighter, the streetlights flickering past in long, pale streaks. His chest ached, not from the chase, but from confusion. None of it made sense. He didn't know that man. He was sure of it. And yet, the familiarity in the stranger's eyes, that terrible mixture of recognition and hatred, wouldn't leave him.
The sea. The roses. The screams.
It all blurred together until he couldn't tell what belonged to the dream and what belonged to reality.
By the time he reached his house, his hands were trembling. He killed the engine and just sat there for a moment, staring at the front door. The lights were on inside, soft and inviting, as if nothing in the world had changed.
He forced himself to breathe. Act normal.
Leo stepped inside, kicking his shoes off like always, greeted by the warm smell of dinner. His brother's laughter drifted from the living room, the sound of dishes clinking from the kitchen. Everything was normal. Perfectly, painfully normal.
"Hey, you're home," his mother said with a small smile when she saw him. "Dinner's ready."
He nodded quickly. "Yeah… I'm just gonna take a shower first," he said, forcing a faint smile.
She nodded without a second thought. Leo turned and headed upstairs.
The bathroom light buzzed faintly as he stepped in. He twisted the faucet, and steam began to fill the small space. The sound of rushing water was almost too loud, drowning out the noise of his thoughts.
He stepped under the stream, letting it hit the back of his neck, running down his face. For a moment, he closed his eyes, and the world fell away.
The screams returned.
Faint at first. Distant. Then closer. Too close.
They bled into the sound of the water, twisting it until the steady rhythm of droplets became a chaotic roar. Leo's breath hitched. His hands pressed against the cold tile as if to ground himself, but it didn't help. The images came unbidden, the sea, the roses, trembling in the storm that hadn't yet begun.
He opened his eyes, the sound vanishing instantly. Just the shower again. Just water.
Leo shut it off and stood there in silence, drops clinging to his skin. His reflection in the fogged mirror looked pale, distant.
He dressed quietly and stepped out into the hallway. "I'm not really hungry," he murmured when his mother called him for dinner. "I think I'll just sleep early."
"Alright," she said softly, sensing something but not pushing it.
In his room, Leo slid under the sheets, exhaustion pulling at his mind. For a fleeting second, he wondered if he should tell someone, anyone, what happened. But how could he? He didn't even know what it was.
Sleep took him quickly.
The sea returned.
But this time, the water wasn't calm. It churned violently, waves crashing against each other in wild defiance. The roses that once floated gently were now torn apart, their petals scattered and sinking beneath the darkening surface.
The screams were louder, closer, echoing around him, rising with the storm. They weren't distant whispers anymore; they were everywhere, wrapping around him like a suffocating fog.
Leo tried to move, to wake, but the water dragged him down.
And just as the chaos reached its peak, the screams cutting through the storm like knives.
He gasped.
His body shot upright in bed, drenched in sweat. The same pounding heart. The same hollow air.
The same dream.
Only now, it felt like it wasn't just a dream anymore.
Two days passed.
Nothing strange happened.
No dreams. No voices. No mysterious figures on the street.
The weekend had come, and for once, life felt ordinary again. Leo didn't have homework, he always finished it during the week with effortless precision. Saturdays were usually dull, he'd ride around town on his bike, maybe help Markus in the lab, but most of the time he was just… bored.
This afternoon was no different.
He lay sprawled across his bed, a comic book open in his hands, Captain America, his favorite. The hero stood strong on the page, shield raised, always ready, always certain of what was right. Leo admired that kind of clarity. The kind he didn't have.
The house was quiet, the late sunlight spilling across the floor in gold stripes.
Then came the noise.
A faint thump from downstairs.
Leo frowned, lowering the comic. He was alone, Markus was out, and his mother had left earlier to run errands. Maybe it was nothing. A cat, or the wind pushing something off the counter.
Still…
He stood, every step cautious as he made his way down. The house felt colder than before, the air dense, almost watchful.
Another sound, sharper this time. Metallic.
It came from the basement. Markus's lab.
Leo's pulse quickened. He moved quietly, hand skimming along the wall as he reached the basement door. It was slightly ajar, a thin slice of light spilling from below.
He swallowed hard and began to descend.
Each step creaked under his weight, the air growing thicker with every breath. When his foot touched the final stair, a wave of unease washed over him, a gut deep instinct whispering that something was wrong.
He took another step.
Then he saw him.
A man stood in the middle of the lab, rifling through Markus's equipment. Tubes, notes, containers, all scattered across the table as the intruder searched with frantic precision.
Leo froze.
He didn't need a closer look to know who it was.
The same man.
The one who had attacked him two days ago.
His body went cold, but his mind stayed sharp. He scanned the room, spotting a heavy metal wrench resting on a nearby bench, something Markus used for adjustments on the larger machinery.
Quietly, Leo picked it up, his fingers tightening around the handle.
He didn't hesitate.
With a surge of adrenaline, he lunged forward, swinging the wrench hard. It connected with a dull thud, and the man dropped instantly, collapsing to the floor in a heap.
Leo stood over him, chest heaving. For a second, he just stared, then, cautiously, he knelt and turned the man over.
The face staring back at him was unfamiliar.
Not a neighbor. Not someone he'd ever seen before.
A complete stranger.
Leo's mind raced. Why me? Why this man? Why any of this?
He exhaled shakily, dragging one of the lab's chairs across the floor. With quick, deliberate movements, he tied the man's wrists and ankles with a length of industrial cord Markus used for securing equipment. When the man stirred a few minutes later, Leo was ready, standing in front of him, wrench still in hand.
The man blinked awake slowly, his expression calm, disturbingly calm as though he'd expected this.
Leo's voice was steady but low. "You're going to tell me who you are. And why you keep coming after me."
For a long moment, the man simply looked at him. The tension stretched thin between them, the basement humming faintly with the buzz of overhead lights.
Then the man's lips curved into something between a smile and a grimace. His voice was quiet, hoarse, but laced with something that made Leo's stomach twist.
"Leo…" he said softly. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you. But I'll say this."
He leaned forward as far as the ropes would allow, his eyes locking onto Leo's.
"I'm not your enemy. I'm your consequence. I came back to stop what you're going to do."
The words hung heavy in the air.
Leo's grip on the wrench faltered slightly. "What are you talking about?"
The man's expression hardened, his next words sharp and final the kind that split silence like glass.
"My name is Liam Anders," he said, voice trembling with the weight of it. "And I'm from the future, a future you destroyed."