(Content Warning: some fuck shit happens in this chapter)
A strike of cold fear impacted Fausto on his back. He longer knew where he was at or where in time he was, this memory was way more intense than the last one. While the last one had plausibility that it was something stuck in his thoughts, this one seemed to rip him out of the reality that he was previously in. Neither of the doctors were there; it was just him standing outside in the hot sun, surrounded by faces that he couldn't make out. It appeared like that they were marked out of the world, just space to fill the cracks within the memory. However, Fausto felt exactly like that, not as he was participating in the dream but merely, an outside set of eyes, a spectator, a person that shouldn't be there.
