to myself

[Chance] POV:

---

It was late.The clock ticked so quietly it seemed louder than my heartbeat.

I was actually just looking for cigarettes.But in the old, faded jacket-dark red, like wine with too much history-I found something else.

A letter.

Folded. Messy. The paper was yellowed, the ink slightly smeared, as if someone had written it with a shaky hand-or with a last shred of courage.

On the front, it simply read:

> "If you forget who you were-read me."

I hesitated. Then I unfolded it.

---

[Letter from Chance]

> Hey you. So... me. Or rather, what's left of me.If you're reading this, you've either forgotten too much-or just enough to doubt.

> I don't know who you are now. Whether you're still laughing, whether you're running or hiding, whether you're drinking again or have finally stopped.But I know one thing: You survived.

> I never intended to be a hero. I was a gambler, a con artist, a fool with a card trick and a penchant for lost souls.Mafioso was one of them. Perhaps the most important one.

> If you think of him and it hurts-then it was real. If you think of him and feel nothing-then you're not ready yet.

> I've made mistakes. Big ones. But I never lied when I said: I wanted to be free. Free from guilt, free from debt, free from feeling like I had to be someone others expected.

> You don't have to be Chance. Not quite.But please... don't forget that we loved. That we lost.And that there was a moment, maybe just one,when even Mafioso looked at me,as if I were more than a stake in the game.

> Find out who you are, Red.And if you do-forgive me.

I read the letter three times.Then I hold it up to the light, as if I could see more between the lines.Maybe tears. Maybe a smile. Maybe... a farewell.

My heart clenches.Not with pain. But with honesty.

He was me. I am him.But I am also more.

I fold the letter.Don't put it away.But put it on the pillow next to me.Like a silent promise.

---

It was a strange return.

The apartment had been sealed.Dust lay like snow on the floorboards.But my key still fit. As if no one had dared to actually lock it.

I wandered through the rooms as if through old photographs.The kitchen smelled of memories.The bathroom of long-vanished perfume.And the bedroom... was empty.

Except for that one room.

The room without windows.The one I always locked-and whose key I now found in my jacket pocket, without knowing why.

I opened the door.

---

[Flashback]

"If I forget myself, this name must not be lost."

The wall was scribbled with frantic notes, like a madman searching for a missing face.Cards, names, threads with thumbtacks.But they all converged on one point.

ITrapped

The name was underlined in red.Three times.

"He took everything from me," I whispered back then."I don't remember what-but the feeling remains."

I remember writing a message to myself with a trembling hand.

One last anchor.

> "If you see him - don't run.Ask. Remember.And if you can: finish it."

---

[Back to the Now]

I breathe heavily.The dust scratches at my throat.The name on the wall burns itself into my memory.ITrapped

Who was he?An enemy? A traitor?Or... was it me who betrayed him?

I take a picture of the wall.Then I pick up one of the notes that read:

> "Find him. Before he finds you."

---

I thought I was looking for myself.But maybe I'm looking for him.For the one who broke the puzzle I was made of.

And what if I find him?

What if Chance did something back then that even I can't forgive?

---

To be continued...