The dream had teeth. They were made of salt and rust.

Thomas woke with his mouth dry. He spat on the floor. The spit hit the wood. It made a sound. A wet slap.

He sat up. The room was small. The walls were white. They were peeling.

"Get up, Tom."

The voice came from the corner. It was not a human voice. It was the sound of wind in a wire.

"Who are you?" Thomas asked.

"I am the clock," the voice said. "And you are late."

Thomas stood. His legs shook. He looked at the window. The glass was black. It reflected his face. The face was old. The eyes were deep.

"I am not old," Thomas said.

"You are," the voice said. "Look at your hands."

He looked. His hands were thin. The veins were blue. They looked like roots.

"Go to the bridge," the voice said. "She is waiting. She is always waiting."

"Who?"

"Elise."

Thomas did not know the name. But his heart hurt. It hurt like a bruise. It hurt like a memory he could not name.

He put on his coat. The coat was heavy. It smelled of damp wool. He went out the door.

The town was gray. The fog was thick. It hung low. It touched the ground. It swallowed the streets.

He walked. His boots made a crunch. The snow was fresh. It was clean. It covered everything. It hid the dirt. It hid the crime.

He saw a man. The man was sitting on a bench. The man was wearing a red hat. He was eating an apple.

"Good morning, Thomas," the man said.

Thomas stopped. "I do not know you."

The man smiled. His teeth were white. "I am Jack. I am the one who betrayed you. I am the one who let them take you. I am the one who sold your name."

Thomas felt cold. "Why are you here?"

"I am here to watch," Jack said. "I am here to see if you remember. I am here to see if you forgive."

"I do not forgive," Thomas said.

"Good," Jack said. "Forgiveness is for the weak. You are strong. You are a soldier. You are a guard. You protect the boundary."

"What boundary?"

"The one between the living and the dead. The one between the truth and the lie. The one between you and her."

Jack bit into the apple. Juice ran down his chin. It was red. It looked like blood.

"Go," Jack said. "The bridge is ahead. Do not look back. If you look back, you will turn to stone. Or worse. You will turn to nothing."

Thomas walked on. The fog got thicker. It was hard to breathe. The air tasted of metal.

He heard water. It was a low hum. It was a deep song. It was the sound of time passing.

He saw the bridge. It was pale. It was made of bone. It stretched across the river. The river was black. It moved fast. It did not reflect the sky. It reflected the stars.

A woman stood on the bridge. She was small. She wore a white dress. The dress was dirty. It was stained with mud.

"Thomas," she said. Her voice was soft. It was like a whisper. It was like a prayer.

"Elise?" he asked.

She turned. Her face was hidden. A veil covered it. The veil was black. It was made of shadows.

"I am here," she said. "I have waited. I have waited for years. I have waited for centuries. I have waited for eternity."

"I do not know you," Thomas said.

"You know me," she said. "You have always known me. I am your conscience. I am your guilt. I am the part of you that remembers."

Thomas felt a pain. It was sharp. It was in his chest. It was in his head. It was in his bones.

"I remember," he said. "I remember the war. I remember the order. I remember the fire."

"The village," she said. "The children. The smoke."

Thomas closed his eyes. He saw the flames. They were orange. They were yellow. They were bright. He saw the faces. They were screaming. They were crying. They were begging.

"I did it," Thomas said. "I gave the order. I burned it. I killed them."

"You did," she said. "And you have carried it. You have carried it for a long time. You have carried it until your body broke. You have carried it until your mind broke."

"Is there a way out?" Thomas asked.

"There is no way out," she said. "There is only a way through. You must cross the bridge. You must let go. You must accept what you are."

"I am a monster," Thomas said.

"You are a man," she said. "A man who made a mistake. A man who paid the price. A man who is tired."

Thomas looked at the bridge. The bone was cold. The river was deep. The stars were watching.

"I am afraid," he said.

"I know," she said. "I am afraid too. I am afraid of forgetting. I am afraid of being alone. I am afraid of the dark."

Thomas took a step. The bone cracked. It made a sound. A small sound. A sad sound.

"Wait," Elise said. "Look at me. Look at my face."

He looked. The veil lifted. It fell away. It dissolved. It was gone.

She had no face. Where the face should have been, there was only fog. There was only mist. There was only nothing.

Thomas gasped. He stumbled. He fell to his knees.

"What is this?" he asked.

"This is the truth," Elise said. "I am not a person. I am a memory. I am a scar. I am the ghost of what you did. I am the thing you cannot see. I am the thing you cannot touch. I am the thing you cannot kill."

Thomas felt a surge of anger. It was hot. It was bright. It was like a fire.

"You lied," he said. "You are not Elise. You are a trick. You are a trap."

"I am the truth," she said. "And the truth is ugly. The truth is cold. The truth is alone."

Thomas stood up. He shook. His hands were trembling. He looked at the river. The water was moving. It was pulling. It was hungry.

"I will not cross," he said.

"You must," she said. "If you do not cross, you will stay here. You will stay in the fog. You will stay in the pain. You will stay in the loop. Forever."

"I prefer the pain," Thomas said. "The pain is real. The pain is mine. If I cross, I will lose myself. I will become nothing. I will be forgotten."

"That is the point," she said. "To be forgotten is to be free. To be forgotten is to rest."

Thomas laughed. It was a dry laugh. It was a harsh laugh. It was a laugh of despair.

"You think I want to rest?" he said. "I do not want to rest. I want to fight. I want to fight the ghost. I want to fight the past. I want to fight myself."

"You cannot fight yourself," she said. "You have tried. You have lost. You are tired, Thomas. You are so tired."

Thomas looked at his hands. The veins were pulsing. They were beating. They were counting.

He looked at the bridge. The bone was white. It was bright. It was beautiful. It was terrible.

He took a breath. The air was cold. It filled his lungs. It filled his heart.

He stepped onto the bridge. The first step was hard. The second step was easier. The third step was smooth.

The bone crumbled under his feet. It turned to dust. The dust fell into the river. The river swallowed it.

He walked faster. The fog cleared. The stars were brighter. The night was darker.

He reached the middle. The bridge was narrow. The water was close. The water was cold.

He looked back. The town was gone. The bench was gone. Jack was gone. Everything was gone.

He looked forward. The other side was dark. It was empty. It was silent.

He felt a lightness. It was in his chest. It was in his head. It was in his soul.

The weight was gone. The guilt was gone. The pain was gone.

He felt empty. He felt clean. He felt free.

He took the last step. His foot touched the ground. The ground was soft. It was grass. It was green.

He turned around. The bridge was gone. The river was gone. The fog was gone.

There was only the sky. It was vast. It was blue. It was endless.

He stood there. He breathed. He existed.

A sound came. It was a voice. It was Jack.

"Did you do it?" Jack asked.

Thomas did not answer. He could not answer. He had no words. He had no memory. He had no name.

He looked at his hands. They were smooth. They were young. They were clean.

He looked at the sky. The sun was rising. It was golden. It was warm. It was kind.

He felt a tear fall. It was hot. It was salt. It was life.

He smiled. It was a small smile. It was a sad smile. It was a final smile.

He closed his eyes. The world faded. The light faded. The sound faded.

There was only silence.

There was only peace.

There was only sleep.

The dream ended. The dream began.

The teeth were sharp. The salt was bitter. The rust was red.

Thomas woke up. He was in the chair. The chair was old. The wood was creaking.

He looked at the wall. The clock was ticking. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

He looked at his hands. They were shaking. They were dirty. They were old.

He heard a voice. It was Elise.

"Get up, Tom. It is time."

He stood up. He went to the door. He opened it. The light was bright. The sun was high. The world was real.

He walked out. The air was fresh. The birds were singing. The people were passing.

He walked. He walked. He walked.

He did not stop. He did not look back. He did not remember.

He was free. He was lost. He was alone.

He was home.