"Knock, knock, knock."
That annoying knocking sound again, though it woke me up instantly…
I live alone in my flat, so there's no one to be knocking on the door; the postwoman always rings the bell.
"Fuck, it wasn't a dream," I thought with unease.
The door opened slowly, and Nurse Helena was already shouting from the threshold: "ROUNDS! Good morning, young man, how are we doing?"
"Sleepy, but good. The soup helped yesterday, and my head doesn't hurt anymore today," I replied. The sooner I answer her, the sooner I can get back to sleep.
"I'm glad to hear that. You're a little miracle, Patrik. Did you dream of anything, or have you remembered anything?" she asked with curiosity and a hint of tension.
"No, I don't remember my dream, nor the time before." It was the truth; I rarely remembered my dreams.
The nurse visibly exhaled, the tension leaving her body.
"Was she afraid I'd have some psychological fallout from my attempted murder?" I wondered.
"Victims of violence carry trauma with them for the rest of their lives in 91.9% of cases. Your case is a bit more specific due to the amnesia. If you don't remember the time before, I assume you won't have any trauma or bad memories. If you do happen to remember, please tell the head of the home. She's already been informed, and if you start remembering, a psychologist will be assigned to help you process your trauma and the fact that someone tried to murder you. Can you promise me that, Patrik? For your own good?" the nurse concluded, her voice full of care.
"Of course, ma'am, I'll tell the head as soon as I remember," I replied with a faint smile. Of course, I was lying… I don't want a psychologist; no one tried to kill me.
This body with my face died. I don't know why I ended up in it, or why someone murdered him… but the least I can do is find out why and avenge him.
"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth… even if I have to go to hell and back. I owe him that much," I thought.
"Knock, knock, knock," echoed through the suddenly quiet room.
"Come in!" Helena shouted.
"Shouldn't I be the one shouting that? Oh well, no one respects kids. This is going to be hard," I thought.
Doctor Barlow entered. I could tell immediately that something serious was happening. He was completely expressionless, tense…
"Good morning, Patrik, how are you feeling?" he asked with a forced smile—stiff and fake—which was more unsettling than comforting.
"What's going on, Doctor?" It had to be something serious. I went straight to the point; Barlow had been honest with me yesterday, so I took the risk.
"Helena, please leave us alone, I'll finish the rounds," Barlow said tensely to the nurse.
We waited in silence until the nurse left the room. With the soft click of the door closing, Barlow turned to me.
"There's an investigation underway at the orphanage. Bates was arrested by the police yesterday. He was suspected of trying to kill you, but there was no direct evidence. By coming to see you yesterday when he wasn't supposed to, he drew attention to himself," Doctor Barlow explained tensely.
"But that's good, isn't it? Now that we know it was him," I asked. I trusted my instincts. Bates was a creep.
"Yes, it's good; he won't be able to hurt anyone else." He was still holding something back, keeping a secret from me. The tension hadn't left him.
"Why did he try to kill me? An eight-year-old in an orphanage... The motive is important…" I thought.
"Why did he try to kill me?" I asked, but what I meant was: "Why did he kill me?!"
At my question, the doctor stiffened even more. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife, and I was starting to suspect it was going to be worse than I thought.
Barlow exhaled sharply after my question and hung his head in defeat.
"You're more intelligent than one would expect."
I needed to know what the fuck was going on here. What was happening in that orphanage? What happened to this body? I trusted Barlow. He didn't want to tell me for my own sake… but in my experience, reality is better than a bitter lie or obfuscation.
"Thank you. Why did he try to kill me?" I asked again.
"I shouldn't tell you. It's better not to know." It had to be really bad for him to be dodging it like this.
I was starting to get pissed off. I needed to know. I have to know; I owe it to this body.
"I want to know, Doctor, tell me," I commanded. My squeaky voice didn't help much, but I could see that just a little more and he'd break.
"The headmistress should be the one to tell you." He was no longer looking at the floor, but into my eyes with compassion.
Something exploded inside me. I wanted to know, I needed to know. More than anything else. It was my only desire when suddenly, something strange happened.
…a flash, of police loading Bates into a car with handcuffs on his wrists… …a flash, of an older woman speaking… …"Every child will need to be examined. This was a massive failure..."… …a flash of a policeman talking… …"Bates is a pedophile, he was on the registry, he had no business being there..."…
"What was that? What happened? Was Bates a pedophile?" I thought. I felt a bit tired and was slightly out of breath.
"Doctor, I trust you. Was Bates a pedophile?" I asked directly, with the coolness of an Englishman.
The doctor's eyes widened like ping-pong balls in surprise… For a moment, he reminded me of Gollum from Lord of the Rings.
"How did you figure that out?" he asked, stunned.
I remained silent. I looked him straight in the eyes. Sometimes, silence is better than a thousand words.
"You really are very intelligent. Yes, he was a pedophile. Bates confessed during interrogation. What I'm about to tell you, you must keep to yourself. You can't tell anyone because it's an ongoing investigation and I, as a doctor, am bound by oath. However, I believe that if I didn't tell you, it would only haunt you mentally. This information is only held by the police, your headmistress as your legal guardian, and me as the doctor who is treating and will be examining every child."
"I promise, Doctor, I won't tell anyone," I promised quickly, before he could change his mind.
"Bates was convicted 15 years ago for child rape; he was on the sex offender registry. He was released for good behavior after 8 years. He was prohibited from approaching schools, playgrounds, orphanages, and the like. However, a systemic failure occurred."
"What kind of failure?"
"The head of an orphanage must check the criminal record before hiring an employee to see if they are fit to work with children. Bates applied with a CV where he spelled his surname with two 'T's. The headmistress checked his name according to the CV. Battes had no record… because no one named 'Battes' even exists," Barlow explained.
I was starting to worry about what this body had gone through. I literally hated pedophiles. Animals.
Systemic error… hmmm. "Computers didn't exist yet; they checked everything via landline?" Another realization that I was in a different year and a different body hit me like a hammer.
"One stroke of luck is that Bates only worked at the orphanage for a month. Under interrogation, he said he didn't abuse any children. He confessed that he tried to knock out a little girl with chloroform, drag her into the maintenance room and abuse her, but he claims you saw him. You started running and screaming. Bates panicked and ran after you, caught up with you under the stairs, and hit you on the back of the head with a pipe wrench. There was blood everywhere. He heard footsteps, so he fled," Barlow explained.
"Since the ambulance and police were contacted immediately, Bates didn't dare do anything else. The police investigated the headmistress, the cook, and the rest of the staff. It was immediately clear it wasn't an accident. A fall down the stairs can be heard, and some children also heard you screaming as you ran. You had no injuries anywhere else, only on the back of your head—no fractures, bruises, or contusions. Based on the wound, it was a blunt object, and therefore classified as attempted murder," Barlow continued.
"And by Bates coming to see his victim in the hospital, he pointed a massive finger at himself," I remarked.
"Yes, exactly. You were already examined upon admission. The only thing you had was a fractured skull, which is miraculously fine today. You were not sexually assaulted," Barlow concluded.
I exhaled with relief. Death is better than sexual assault. The only thing that ever terrified me in life was sexual abuse. Helplessness and suffering. Thank God he didn't manage to hurt any child in the home.
"When I'm older, I'll find him and he'll regret being born," I promised my body in my mind.
"Thank you for your honesty, Doctor, I really appreciate it. What happens now?" I asked Barlow.
"We'll finish the rounds, check if the wound is still okay, and after lunch, the headmistress will come for you. You're going back home," the doctor smiled. He was no longer tense. I suppose I reacted calmly enough.
Barlow checked the back of my head. It was easier than yesterday… Judging by his fascinated mumbling, everything was fine. He recorded the rounds in my medical chart and said goodbye.
"If you need anything, remember the button on the bed," Barlow reminded me and left.
I stretched out on the bed and put my hands behind my head with a sigh.
"I have time to think," I thought.
"What were those flashes when I looked into his eyes?" I asked myself. "They were either thoughts or memories. Barlow thought I deduced that Bates was a pedophile. So what I saw was true. That confirms I'm in another universe… The question is, which one?"
"Telepathy and regeneration? Did I get superpowers during the murder attempt? A mutant gene? Or was it Legilimency and I'm in Harry Potter? Maybe Marvel? DC? But then again, regeneration could be from Harry Potter too—didn't his wounds heal better? Didn't his hair grow back when he tried really hard?"
I knew the name Rosier rang a bell, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember from where.
"I'll try to use telepathy again when I get the chance, and we'll see," I told myself.
"Knock, knock, knock."
"Come in!" I shouted.
The student nurse from yesterday entered with a tray of food. Perfect, my stomach was just starting to rumble.
"Little Patrik is hungry," she said in a childish voice.
"Little Patrik is the hungriest," I replied with a smile.
"Here you go: omelet, toast, and fruit yogurt. Enjoy."
She placed the tray on my bed and started to leave.
Before the door closed behind her, I managed to shout: "Thanks, Eliza, you're sweet."
She turned to me with a smile and a surprised look, waving. She was probably surprised I remembered her name. There was only the click of the closing door, and I could tear into the food like a wolf.
After breakfast—great at least in terms of nutritional value—I was starting to get bored.
"I don't know what world I'm in, but my body is weak. I need to improve it, it must get stronger. The world isn't fair," I thought.
"Dumbbells and heavy weights are a no-go. If I have increased regeneration, it would be fine, but it's not confirmed and I definitely don't want to be stunted in a child's version of a grown man."
"So, boxing classics it is. Squats, push-ups, crunches, and the pull-up bar. Shadowboxing and full-body power stretching." The training was planned out, but it would probably be weird if I started shadowboxing and working out here after such an injury. So, stretching until I bite my lip from boredom.
During the painful stretching, I realized something very important that I think will significantly help me in the future.
"I am 100% focused, I have 100% motivation to improve. No annoying mobile notifications forcing me to look, I don't miss my phone or computer. No games or e-reader. My brain is clear, no dopamine from social media. No bad habits, just a clear head and knowledge from 29 years of life. I know the technological future, which will definitely help me. At least regarding the general development of technology and what's worth investing in. What I lack is capital. I'll have to solve that."
"I absolutely must find out which universe I'm in as soon as possible." I need to know the risks of the future and what to watch out for.
"Next, my priority will be my abilities. In every universe where there are superpowers, there are brutal risks, and I want to have control over my destiny," I promised myself.
After stretching, I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead and sat back on the bed. Time for meditation—that's necessary if I want to know my abilities. I didn't know how to meditate, but I tried it once in my original life. I remember the basics were about controlling your breathing. I had experience with that—pre-fight breathing and stress breathing…
I closed my eyes and started counting: "1 2 3 4 – inhaaaaale." "1 2 3 4 – hold breath in lungs." "1 2 3 4 – exhaaaaale."
I don't know how long I spent trying to meditate. I expected to find or realize something interesting. Maybe that I'd start reading the thoughts of the whole hospital… but unfortunately, to my disappointment, nothing like that happened. No chakra, no hidden power… simply nothing.
"Fuck!" I cursed out loud. "I don't have any hack system, no gamer system, nothing for free. Just hard mode in a hard world. Only my mind, my body, and my abilities, which I know nothing about. It's tough, but I have to grind. In real life, nothing is for free. You have to work for everything or earn it. I'm not a little bitch, I'm keeping at it…"
I cursed myself out mentally, got myself motivated, and meditated further….
***
What do you think about this chapter?
What did you like, and what didn't work for you? When I read it back myself, it feels pretty okay, but I'd love to hear your thoughts.
Your feedback really helps me and motivates me to keep writing and improve faster.
And if you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to drop a Power Stone — it helps a lot and keeps me motivated.
Anyway, I wish you all a Merry Christmas.