It Was Him

Even though the person in this dream was himself, Frank glared at him as though he was a sworn enemy, bristling with hostility. Frank's violent aura surged, and even his deep-set eyes gleamed with a menacing red. He charged forward like a madman, but his ethereal, ghost-like form passed right through his former self, powerless to change anything. Now, he was merely a spectator, watching the past unfold from a god-like vantage point—unable to change or even intervene. It was futile. Frank lunged forward, his voice hoarse from screaming. But all he could do was stand by and watch as his past self left the house, waiting in ambush at the alley where Lucille would soon pass. That night, Lucille, in the middle of a covert mission, was betrayed. The enemy, tipped off, had set up traps and ambushes for her. Lucille barely escaped with her life, narrowly avoiding death as she fled the deadly pursuit. Covered in blood and wounds, Lucille finally made it to a seemingly safe alley. Leaning agains