Chapter 11

"Eight years?" Jackson echoed, his mind reeling. "But that's impossible. I just left here yesterday. Well, before the bus... and the hospital..." He trailed off, realizing how insane he must sound.

The woman's expression softened slightly, moving from suspicion to concern. "Are you feeling alright, dear? Perhaps you need to sit down. Or call someone?"

Jackson shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. "No, no, I'm fine. I'm sorry, I must have the wrong apartment. My mistake."

The old woman eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer, then shrugged. "Alright, dear. Do take care." With that, she shuffled back inside and closed the door, leaving Jackson's mouth agape in the hallway.

He blinked rapidly as if expecting the familiar surroundings of his apartment to materialize before him. No such luck. The faded wallpaper and musty carpet remained stubbornly unfamiliar.

"What in the ever-loving hell is going on?" Jackson muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"My, my, such lang
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