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The road stretched endlessly before him, a winding ribbon of asphalt cutting through the barren landscape. The sun was setting, dipping below the horizon in a smear of orange and purple, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. The sky above Nockfell had always been gray in his memories, thick with clouds, as if the town itself resisted warmth.
Travis Phelps hadn’t set foot here in almost seven years.
He had sworn he never would.
Yet here he was, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles ached, his foot tapping anxiously against the floorboard as he neared the outskirts of town.
The old gas station was still there, its neon sign flickering weakly, barely clinging to life. He drove past it without stopping. Further down the road, the school loomed in the distance, abandoned now—just another decaying relic of a town that had been rotting long before tragedy had struck.
And then, finally, he saw it.
Addison Apartments.
Travis pulled over, letting the engine idle as he stared at the building through his windshield. The place was condemned now, the windows shattered, the doors boarded up. What had once been a home for so many was now nothing more than a tomb.
His stomach twisted. He shouldn’t be here.
He had spent years trying to leave this place behind, drowning his memories in whiskey, in fleeting hookups, in anything that could make him forget who he had been—who he had hurt.
Sal Fisher’s face flashed through his mind, unbidden.
Not the grotesque, stitched-up version the world had come to fear. No, Travis saw the Sal from high school—the one with the ridiculous blue pigtails, the one he had spent years tormenting, the one who had looked at him with something almost like understanding when Travis had thrown the worst of himself at him.
Travis exhaled sharply and rubbed a hand over his face.
He had convinced himself, for years, that his cruelty had been justified. That Sal had deserved it.
But that was a lie.
Sal Fisher had been good—kind, despite everything. And Travis had repaid that kindness with fists and slurs, with bruises and words meant to cut deep.
And now, Sal was gone.
And Travis was here.
He shut off the car.
Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped into the past.
— — — — —
The moment Travis crossed the threshold of Addison Apartments, a shiver ran down his spine.
The air was thick with dust and decay, the scent of mildew clinging to the walls like something alive. His footsteps echoed in the empty hallway, each step sending up small clouds of debris from the ruined carpet.
The building was dead.
It should have been silent.
But it wasn’t.
There was something else in the air—a presence, a weight pressing against his chest. It was the same suffocating feeling he had once felt in his childhood home when his father’s anger took up too much space, when the walls seemed to close in on him.
Travis swallowed hard.
His flashlight flickered as he made his way toward the staircase, the beam sweeping across broken picture frames and discarded furniture. The apartment complex was crumbling from the inside out.
And yet, despite the ruin, it felt as though the past was still here.
Waiting.
He moved deeper into the building, past doorways he had walked through so many times before. He paused when he reached apartment 402.
Sal’s old home.
The doorknob was rusted, but when he reached for it, it moved beneath his touch.
A breath caught in his throat.
And then—
“Travis.”
He froze.
The whisper was soft, distant—like an echo through water.
His heart hammered against his ribs as he turned, dread pooling in his stomach.
At the end of the hall, bathed in the pale glow of something unnatural, stood Sal Fisher.
Travis’ blood turned to ice.
Sal’s figure flickered like static, his body shifting between solid and spectral. His lone remaining eye glowed a piercing blue, the light of it casting eerie shadows against the walls.
But it wasn’t the sight of a ghost that made Travis’ stomach lurch.
It was the way Sal looked at him.
Not with anger. Not with hatred.
But with something else entirely.
Something like understanding.
Travis’ voice barely worked.
“…Sal?”
The ghost tilted his head, expression unreadable.
And somehow, that was worse than if he had been screaming.
— — — — —
Travis had spent years convincing himself that ghosts weren’t real.
That what happened in this town had been nothing more than tragedy—horrific, inexplicable, but ultimately human.
But now, standing in the decaying hallway of Addison Apartments, staring at the impossible, he couldn’t deny it anymore.
Sal was here.
Somehow, Sal was still here.
“You’re real,” Travis whispered, the words barely leaving his lips.
Sal didn’t blink. “I’ve always been real.”
Travis felt something tighten in his chest.
The flashlight trembled in his grip. “I never got to say I was sorry.”
Sal was silent.
Travis let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I—” His voice cracked. “I was horrible to you. And I knew it. I knew what I was doing, and I still—” He exhaled sharply. “I hated myself. I hated everything. And I took it out on you.”
Sal finally spoke.
“I know.”
The words weren’t cruel. They weren’t filled with resentment.
They were just true.
Travis swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
Sal’s ghost flickered. “Then why are you here?”
Travis’ chest ached.
Because I can’t live with this anymore. Because I don’t know who I am. Because I’m tired of hating myself.
But he didn’t say any of that.
Instead, he whispered, “I don’t know.”
Sal looked at him for a long time. Then, softly:
“You still can be better.”
Travis let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think that’s how it works, man.”
Sal’s eye gleamed. “It does if you want it to.”
— — — — —
They sat in the ruins of apartment 402, the silence stretching between them.
“I hated you,” Sal admitted, his voice quiet but unwavering.
Travis’ hands curled into fists.
“But I also understood you,” Sal continued. “You were scared. And angry. And lost.” He met Travis’ eyes. “You still are.”
Travis swallowed. “I don’t know how to fix any of it.”
Sal’s gaze didn’t waver. “Then start by forgiving yourself.”
Travis exhaled shakily. “I don’t think I can.”
Sal gave him a small, knowing look.
“Try.”
— — — — —
The night air was crisp when Travis stepped outside.
The weight on his chest wasn’t gone.
But it was lighter.
He looked back at Addison Apartments one last time.
Sal was gone.
Or maybe, he had never really left.
As Travis reached his car, a whisper drifted through the wind.
“It’s not too late.”
And for the first time, Travis believed it.
— — — — —
The town had never been kind to him. But maybe it didn't matter anymore. Maybe it was time to stop running-time to face the past and, finally, let go of the weight that had held him captive for so long.
As Travis drove away from Addison Apartments, he realized something. The road ahead was still uncertain, still dark in places, but for the first time in his life, he didn't feel completely alone.
And that, perhaps, was enough to begin again.