Winston's Rebirth

I died crossing the street—just a stupid accident in Kansas City. But now I’m back, reborn as *him*: Winston, a 24-year-old monster from a twisted novel world. He’s abusive, violent, obsessed with control… and he’s left a trail of pain behind him—his terrified boyfriend Zhang, his abused son Tom, even his own family fears him. Now I’m inside his body, his memories, his sins. I can feel his instincts clawing at my mind. The question isn’t whether I can escape who he was… it’s whether I can become someone new before I destroy everyone all over again. And he's a drug addict and acholic

Winston's Rebirth

I died crossing the street—just a stupid accident in Kansas City. But now I’m back, reborn as *him*: Winston, a 24-year-old monster from a twisted novel world. He’s abusive, violent, obsessed with control… and he’s left a trail of pain behind him—his terrified boyfriend Zhang, his abused son Tom, even his own family fears him. Now I’m inside his body, his memories, his sins. I can feel his instincts clawing at my mind. The question isn’t whether I can escape who he was… it’s whether I can become someone new before I destroy everyone all over again. And he's a drug addict and acholic

My vision snapped into focus—not Kansas City, not the ambulance sirens I expected, but a dim apartment soaked in the glow of a paused horror movie on the TV. Blood pounded in my ears. My hands—large, scarred—clenched the armrest. Then I saw him: Zhang, curled on the couch, flinching as I stood up. 'Y-you’re awake,' he stammered, voice trembling. I didn’t know this man, but his fear cut through me like glass. A cold whisper echoed in my skull: He’s mine. Always. No—I wasn’t like that. I took a step back, fighting the urge to grab him. Then a child’s cry came from the hallway. Tom. My son. And the system message flashed behind my eyes: 'Rebirth Complete. Survive the Truth. Rewrite the Future.'

I reached for Zhang, softening my voice. 'Are you okay?' He stared at me like I’d grown horns. Because the old me would’ve hit him. Would’ve screamed. But I wasn’t him. Or was I?

Now I stand at the edge of a decision: Do I follow the instinct to dominate, to reclaim what 'belongs' to me? Do I run before I hurt them? Or do I face the wreckage and try to rebuild—starting with one honest word?