The key was there.
He almost didn't believe it at first—tucked into the center of a book lying open on a pedestal that hadn't been there a moment ago.
A simple brass key. No label. No decoration. Just a narrow, worn shaft and a single tooth.
But it was real.
He could feel it.
He reached for it.
His fingers touched the cold metal—
—and couldn't lift it.
He tried again. Both hands this time. Tried twisting, tugging, even slipping his nails beneath it. It wouldn't move. It didn't shake or resist like an object resisting touch.
It simply didn't acknowledge the idea of being taken.
His breath caught.
The key was part of the book.
He stared at it for a long moment.
Then sat down.
The pages beneath the key rustled faintly, as if inviting him in.
He turned to the beginning.
There was no title. No author.
Just a single line written in soft, childlike ink:
This is how you broke her.
He turned the page.
It began in a house. A small one, familiar.
He was younger. She was younger.
His sister. Smiling. Laughing.
He remembered that. Didn't he?
He kept reading.
The words blurred sometimes, but his eyes didn't stop.
He saw the accident. The blood. The scream.
The panic in his chest. The call that never connected. The silence after.
It played out in crisp, unyielding prose. Sentence after sentence folding around him like a noose made of memory.
By the time he reached the middle of the book, his hands were shaking.
He couldn't tell if he was remembering or being told what to remember.
You were careless.You weren't there when it mattered.She needed you, and you failed her.This is why you're here.
He shut the book.
The key didn't fall out.
He didn't expect it to.
But the ache in his chest had shape now. A story. An explanation.
It made sense.
Too much sense.
He stared at the book again.
Then slowly, stood up.
And asked the air:
"…Is that really what happened?"
Silence.
The book didn't answer.
But the weight in his lungs did.
And somewhere beneath it all—
buried far, far deeper than the words could reach—
something inside him whispered:
No. You were □□