Chapter 2: The Usurpation

Samuel

It was nightfall when I left the hospital, my mind still in turmoil. There was nothing more tangible than the cold and cruel reality I found myself facing, but it seemed to me as blurred and unreal as a nightmare. Each step on the pavement seemed heavier than the last, each breath seemed like an effort. I had no time to think about what I had just experienced. This was not the end. It was only the beginning.

I hadn't planned everything. I had no idea how I was going to do it, but one thing was becoming increasingly clear to me: I had to become Alexandre. I had to take his place, at least for a while. It seemed to me to be the only way to find the truth, to discover what was behind his death. I had neither the time nor the energy to doubt.

I took a taxi to his apartment, the one he had been living in for a few months already. The same feeling of strangeness came over me as soon as I got in the vehicle. At each crossroads, I had the impression of moving a little further away from myself, from this life that I had built far from the turmoil of Alexandre's. But none of that made sense now. It was no longer a matter of life or death, it was a question of truth. I had to know why he had died.

Alexandre's apartment was in a rather quiet neighborhood, even if it tended to hide some dark facets, like its owner. I knew he wasn't the kind of person to easily bond with neighbors, but still, this place, this neighborhood, represented his new life. He seemed to have wanted to start over. But if he had really turned the page, why was his end so violent and senseless? There was something hidden here, something I had to find out.

I parked in front of the building and headed for the entrance. The staircase leading to his floor was old and worn. I had the impression that he was watching me, that he knew where I was going, that everything that was happening around me had already been written. A shiver ran down my spine. It was ridiculous. I didn't have time for such thoughts.

Once outside his apartment door, I stopped for a moment. Inside me, I was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I could almost feel my brother's presence through that door. He wasn't far away, but he was slipping away from me, as if I wanted to find a part of him, but he was slipping through my fingers with every attempt.

I took a deep breath and knocked gently.

A few seconds later, the door opened slowly. Clara's silhouette appeared in the doorway, her face marked by fatigue and incomprehension. She stared at me for a moment, not knowing who she had in front of her. Her eyes were full of sadness, of that emptiness that seems to engulf all light, but also of a glimmer that reminded me that, despite the grief, she was still there. She had fought for her husband, for her son, to keep this family afloat. And today, she was lost. She didn't even know who I was.

“Clara... it's me, Alexandre.”

I saw a shiver run through her body. She was scrutinizing me with that expression I had seen so many times before: the attempt to decipher a face, a soul, a gaze. She was a woman who knew her husband, perhaps a little too well. But in me, there was only a shadow of him. A trembling, uncertain shadow. And yet I had to hold on. I had no other choice. For her, for their son, for Alexandre.

“Alexandre... you... you came back from the hospital so quickly?” she asked, clearly confused. Her tone betrayed a certain disbelief, as if she were still waiting for a sign. Perhaps she was hoping that it was all just a bad dream.

I forced myself to smile, even though the idea of playing this game made my guts twist. The pain in my chest was immense, but I hid it under a cold mask. I had to appear credible. I didn't have the luxury of failing.

“Yes... yes, I had to leave in a hurry, you know, the autopsy and all that. But it's okay, I was just a little shaken.” I felt almost repulsed by the way my words came out of my mouth, but there was no room for honesty in this plan. Not yet. ”I wanted to see you, to give you a hug... to tell you that everything will be all right.”

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, then stepped back, letting me in. I entered, and the air in the apartment seemed suffocating to me, as if I were slipping into someone else's skin, into a life that did not belong to me. I forced myself not to be overwhelmed by the heaviness of the moment.

Clara sat down on the sofa, her hands on her knees, and I joined her slowly.

“I'm... I'm sorry, Alexandre. I'm lost. Why all this? Why did you... why did you end up there?”

Her eyes were filled with tears, but she was trying not to break down. She wanted answers, just like me. But I knew I couldn't offer her the truth right away. Not yet.

“I don't know...” I replied in a slow, almost too calm voice. ”I have no idea. But I promise you I will find out what happened. I will understand why they did it.”

I saw a glimmer of hope light up in her eyes, a fragile glimmer. She got up slowly, came over to me and took me in her arms, as if she were looking for one last proof that all was not lost, that it was all just a bad patch. I tensed up, but I didn't dare push her away. Not now. Not after everything she was going through.

I closed my eyes for a moment, closing the doors of my consciousness, listening to them knocking on my memory, like waves beating on a deserted shore. But there was a voice whispering to me incessantly: You must go on. You must discover the truth.

And so, in that embrace, I made an irrevocable decision: I was going to become Alexandre. Not just in that apartment, not just for Clara, but in every aspect of the life he had left behind. I had to embody his role, take on his identity. It wasn't fair to her. It wasn't fair to me. It was to find out what had caused his death.

And I will discover that truth. No matter the price.