This is not a dream

I stare at myself in the mirror. But the person staring back isn’t me…

I touch my face frantically, trying not to panic, hoping the young man in the mirror won’t mimic my actions. But he does, he always does. I touch my face, my chest, my arms, and he follows suit. The ultimate realization hits me—I am Jake.

“Jake, are you okay?” she repeats for the second time, her eyes filled with confusion and concern.

“Y-yeah,” I mutter, trying my best to convince her, even though it’s clear I’m not.

“Come here, you don’t look okay.” She takes my hand and guides me back to the bed, holding me close as she caresses my face and hair. This is nice. I don’t remember anyone caring this much about me until now. Well, I remind myself that "this girl" doesn’t really care about me, the fat, ugly me, but about the body I’m currently inhabiting.

Is this wrong? I wonder as her gentle touches ease my mind. There’s a mental struggle within me. As wonderful as this life is, it’s not mine; it’s Jake’s. However, as her soft touches brush my skin, the answer becomes clear.

While I’m unsure how it happened, it must be related to the pendant I carried and Jake stole. Therefore, this isn’t a matter of me stealing Jake’s life but of him giving it to me.

Now his body, his life, and his girlfriend are mine.