Kings Cross,Sydney — August 28th, 2008.
Midnight, around 12:30 AM
The club throbbed with bass so heavy it shook Danny's ribs. Bodies swayed in a chaotic rhythm.
Lights flashed—blue, red, white—like a strobe-drenched warzone.
Danny stood still in the center of it, sipping something neon from a plastic cup, watching the chaos like he didn't belong in it, but couldn't leave, either.
He didn't remember arriving here, not fully. Just…some flashes. He remembered a taxi, maybe. Or walking. The streets blurred together sometimes.
His phone buzzed again—an unknown number called him. He silenced it without looking.
Later, he was outside again. The streetlight buzzed overhead. He sat on a low stone wall, hands trembling slightly.
Another cigarette, another bruise. This one near his ribs. He rolled up his shirt and stared at the deep blue bloom, touching it lightly. Winced.
What had he done last night?
He couldn't recall it. He never could recall some memories no matter how hard he tried.
A girl walked by with a black leather jacket and fierce eyeliner. She paused, looking at him.
"Danny?"
He looked up. "Yeah?"
"You alright, man? You left early last night."
Danny looked confused. "Last night?"
She gave him a weird look. "We were at baseline, remember? You got into it with some bloke in the smoking area. I thought you were gonna deck him."
Danny blinked, still confused. "I…left early?"
"Yeah, like before midnight. Said you weren't feeling well."
But that didn't line up at all with what he remembered.
He'd woken up this morning at noon, feeling like he hadn't slept at all. But the taste in his mouth had been toothpaste. The lamp by the bed was on. His phone had been charging. It was neat—too neat.
"Right," he said, forcing a grin. "Weird night."
She laughed, but it didn't sound natural.
"You should ease up, mate. Seriously, you have been a bit…all over lately."
Danny just nodded as she walked away.
He wandered home, or at least, what felt like home.
A narrow flat above a shop, the kind of place with stained carpets and one working lightbulb in the hallway. But the cheap rent made up for all shortcomings.
His key stuck a little before the lock clicked open. Inside was quiet.
The air smelled faintly of lemon soap. His jacket—the black one—wasn't on the hook where he'd left it.
In fact, the entire hook was empty. He checked the bin, there were no takeout boxes. He usually left them there.
He went to the bathroom. The mirror was spotless, no fog, no marks. His toothbrush was moved. His cologne was in the wrong spot.
He leaned in, stared at his reflection. His eyes twitched slightly, like they didn't belong to him. He opened the cabinet on the top. There was a bottle of anti-anxiety pills on the top shelf.
He didn't remember buying those.
He went out and opened the bedroom. The bed was made, and it was very perfect. But the thing was, Danny never in his life made bed like that.
He sat down slowly. The sheets smelled like lavender.
Something was wrong.
Something was seriously wrong.
He looked at his phone. No messages. He flipped through photos, no new ones, no proof of anything. Just a void between days. Every day there was a blackout. Every morning.
What the hell is happening to him?
He lay down, shoes still on, staring at the ceiling.
One thought floated in his mind.
I feel like I am being replaced. I am not me anymore.