Borrowed Lives

I tried to speak but I couldn't say a thing. The chamber along with the very idea of light dissolved beneath me like a breath on glass.

Where I now stand shifts its identity, starting as a field, then a school’s hallway. For a moment I saw what may have been my old bedroom. It was as if this place was trying to answer for itself ‘who it is’.

I couldn’t tell. The world was bending at the edges, rippling like water touched by a trembling hand. Familiar shapes surrounded me, desks, cherry blossom trees, a creaky stairwell, but none of them held. Each time I tried to focus, the scene shifted.

And still, that voice echoed:

"Who are you?"

A figure walked toward me through the haze. I couldn’t see their face. They reminded me of myself, if I were only a shadow.

"Are you the quiet one who always sat at the back of the class?" it was my voice, but not my tone.

The world flickered once again until it settled. I then saw myself at sixteen, head resting against a desk while the teacher droned on. The classroom was organized in such a way that the desks were arranged like tables, to encourage group work. Of course, I was to a table by myself.

"Or the boy who made everyone laugh at lunch that one time?"

Another flicker, my voice much younger, louder, telling a story, people smiling around me. As it went on, the tale obviously shifted from truth to lies for the sake of keeping everyone entertained.

I reached out toward the memory, but it shattered.

And I was alone again.

"Are you your achievements?"

"Your failures?"

"Your regrets?"

The images came faster now.

My sister, standing by the front door, arms crossed, her disappointment unspoken.

My mother, setting dinner down gently, as if too much pressure might break me.

My father, patting my shoulder with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

"Who are you?"

I covered my ears, trying to escape from this.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t…”

The world cracked.

A high-pitched ring filled the air as if the glass of reality had been struck.

“Please… just stop…”

The pieces of memory began to rain down, each shard a voice, a face, a failure.

"Get up," someone said with a hint of annoyance.

"Try harder,” another had spoken with earnest.

"Why can't you just..."

"Enough!" I screamed, and just then the hall of judgement reformed itself.

"Are you unable to answer?" the voice of hall, no, the voice of the prison boomed once again.

How should I know who I am? Are we solely ourselves or are we a culmination of how others see us? Are we the result of our past, our present? Who am I really?

"I... I don't know"

A silence, one I knew all too well, the silence of disappointment.

"You have failed the qualifications to begin your proper judgement, I pray it doesn't go like this again when next you're called."

I was escorted back to my cell just in time to have lunch and begin my custodian duties. Aeris looked sorrowfully at me, as if I didn't live up to her hopes. On one hand I'm glad she thought I could pass on the other, I realized we didn't know each other as well as we could.

She hadn’t asked what happened. That was the worst part.

The bracelet given to me on orientation began to look more like Aeris’. I was curious about what that meant but I didn’t want to talk about that. And I hated that she let me stay silent.

After the trays were cleared, a bell rang out, not from the ceiling or the wall, but from inside my skull. Cold and clear, like a chime underwater. Then the words followed:

“Custodian assignment: East Archive Hall, Vault Row 7. Report immediately.”

Aeris rose. I followed. Neither of us spoke.

The East Archive didn’t look like a prison. It looked like an abandoned library crossed with a cathedral. High arches. Long marble floors. The scent of old paper and lavender oil. Above us, massive stained-glass windows didn’t show saints, they showed memories: a girl chasing her dog through the snow, a man weeping over a broken lute, a quiet dinner in a candlelit room.

The cleaning closet opened before us without a key. Inside was a mop, a bucket that filled itself with water tinted faintly blue, a soft-bristled broom, and a satchel of polishing cloths that hummed when touched. It felt more like preparing for a ritual than a chore.

“I’ll take the left corridor,” Aeris finally said, her voice gentle. “You can start right, if that's alright with you.”

I nodded. That was it.

Vault 7-A was a bedroom. A child’s, probably. One wall was covered in star-shaped stickers, half-peeled and glowing dimly. A music box spun slowly on a shelf, playing no music. On the bed there was a single worn slipper and a plush pink rabbit slumped over like it had been waiting years. Next to the bed was a picture frame on a dresser.

As I swept the floors, the dust glowed softly and vanished as it rose, like it was forgiving me for removing it. Rather, it was also kind of like it was thanking me for setting it free? I wasn’t paying too much attention, only realizing it after the fact.

When I polished the glass of the picture frame on the dresser, I saw my reflection shift. For just a second… I wasn’t me. I was smiling. And happy. And small. And someone called my name, but it wasn’t Akito.

The moment passed like a breath.

Vault 7-B was a classroom. Desks hovered slightly off the floor, some stacked, some still occupied by ghostly silhouettes scribbling notes. A chalkboard stretched across one wall. A phrase was scrawled across it over and over, fading in and out:

“Try again. Try again. Try again.”

I didn’t recognize the words. But my chest tightened anyway.

As I swept, one desk creaked open on its own. A paper slid out, bearing a red mark, a circle around a number I couldn’t read. Just red. Just wrong.

A strange thing happened then. I whispered, “I’m sorry,” under my breath.

I didn’t even know why.

Even still, I got to work. Re arranging the seats, cleaning the crumbs left behind from snacks. Wiping clean the teachers’ desk. I had left the place better than I found it but I felt like I had wronged the vault in some way.

Next was Vault 7-C, it had no walls.

Just a meadow of glowing grass and the scent of rain. A memory of somewhere I’d never been. I stood in the middle of it for a long while, mop in hand, unsure where to begin. What was I even supposed to be cleaning here? I wasn’t given a lawn mower.

Then I noticed, the grass bent awkwardly in one direction, like someone had collapsed there. Footprints appeared when I stepped near, then the air shimmered, and I heard laughter.

It wasn’t mine. But it could’ve been. And that frightened me. Eventually, I couldn’t do this anymore. I left the vault and slumped against a marble wall. My body was still moving, but inside… I was unspooling.

That’s when Aeris appeared beside me, gently sitting down with her back to the wall. Her cheeks were lightly flushed from work, sleeves rolled up, hair messily tied. She held out a bottle of I presume was water.

I hesitated, then took it.

“I used to clean the archives the same way when I first arrived,” she said, quietly. “I didn’t like it at first. All those memories. They felt… invasive. Like I was seeing something I hadn’t earned the right to witness.”

I took a sip, then handed it back. “They feel familiar. Like they should be mine, even when they’re not.”

She nodded. “Some memories echo like that. We recognize the feelings, even if the faces aren’t ours. It's just best to focus on cleaning, nothing more."

She studied me for a moment. “Do you want to talk about what happened earlier?”

“No.”

A pause. Then, “Alright.”

She didn’t push. She didn’t sigh. She just… sat beside me. Quietly.

And somehow that hurt worse.

“…I thought I was ready,” I muttered.

Her head tilted, I could’ve sworn she rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t it in a bad way. Regardless, she let me continue.

“I thought I could handle judgment. I thought I could face it and come out stronger. Like some… trial you just walk through. But when the past actually looks you in the eye, when it asks you who you are…”

I swallowed.

“…and you can’t answer…”

My hands curled around my knees. “I don’t even know if I ever was someone worth judging.”

She exhaled slowly. “Do you think worth is something we’re born with? Or something we earn?” Her teacher side began to shine through.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I feel like I missed the mark somewhere. Like everyone else had a map, and I was asleep when they handed it out.”

Her voice was soft. “You think you're the only one who feels that way?”

My throat tightened. “Aeris, please. I don’t...”

“I’m not trying to fix you,” she said. “I’m just… sitting beside you.” Her body swayed like she was enjoying this, not for her sake but my own. To ease away any worries I have.

I didn’t have anything else I could bring myself to say. So, I stayed by her side.

For a moment, I let myself breathe. Just breathe.

Not because it solved anything. But because I knew that I wasn’t alone.