Drake was weak and fell right on the toilet's seat like paper being flung into open space. Right before they started to throw their boldly designed fists on to his body, he felt something as he shut his eyes anticipating the incoming pain. He felt silence, yet noise. He felt some kind of heat flashing right before his face and now he opened his eyes.
Drake was in his bed, in his room. He was back to hours before the toilet scene happened. He was speechless, confused and his brain just kept making up a million stories with less than a hundred proofs.
"It must have been a concussion. I must have been punched badly on the head", he said to himself as he put his two hands on his face as he felt pain fixed on it. "I knew it, I was hit in the face, but how come that's all I remember?", he asked himself with an unfamiliar puzzled look on his face.
As if this version of a quagmire wasn't hefty enough, he glanced at his room and saw scenes of movement; every move he had made, every step he had taken in the morning before he left for school that day, they were all appearing right in front of his eyes.
"Oh, no! Is this some new kind of crazy, or is my subconscious still being fuzzy?... Or am I dead?", he thought as he sat up on his bed, still looking at all he did in the morning.
His eyes were dancing in their sockets with his brain overworking itself. He used his two hands to wipe his face and as he opened them again, the slideshow was gone.
He had this sigh of relief, like he had been holding his breath for minutes. He wasn't done thinking yet, as he sought an answer to all this.
He stood up and walked to his table and checked the time on his phone. It was 7:07 AM and the date remained the same. Was he dreaming or worst case, hallucinating?
He touched his face again and felt the pain that was invested by James' punch as the punch scene found its way to Drake's memory again.
"Then I was really punched. This is not normal, none of it is.", he whispered to himself as he headed for his hub of peace and quiet- the bathroom. He opened the shower right on his head as he kept searching for answers that just weren't coming. After minutes of more thinking than bathing, he came out of the bathroom and got dressed for school, in a different dressing this time.
He walked down the staircase and just as it happened before, Grandma was the only one downstairs arranging the dining table.
"That took almost forever. I made pancakes, but you have to eat up fast. I don't want you to be late.", she said with a lovely tone and a comely smile on her face.
"Good morning to you too, Suzanne", he said as he hurried to the dining table to eat his pancakes. Somehow, he was feeling less troubled as he took each bit of the pancake. When he was done, he went right out of the door.
"Bye Suzanne. Love you", he said as he left the house.
He trekked to school as he still had time on his hands. He got to the entrance of school and every thing, every move and every car that he noticed yesterday or today as he knew it was done exactly the same. This wasn't an answer to his question, but it was a good variable to consider in the process.
Every lecture he had that day was the same and everyone seemed to be wearing the same clothes. James, Hakim and Nathan stepped into the class and somehow, Drake became so terrified as they stared at him as they entered.
"Did they experience this too?", he kept asking himself. They were In their same clothes and nothing about their appearances seemed to have changed. Drake was only looking at the faces of the teachers without paying attention. He had bigger problems to worry about.
Drake kept up with this routine till it was the end of school and he left the class immediately this nightmare was over. He went to the toilet and there was nothing on the mirror when he checked. He sighed so loudly, he overshadowed the running tap. He went out of the bathroom quickly and headed to the school's basketball court, a couple metres away from the classes.
He was alone here and always was. He was always In the court every Tuesday, a day that most students would have left the school, so he had the whole place to himself. He changed his clothes and brought out a ball and started with a few hoops that were all missing the prime target. He had too much going on in his mind to be able to concentrate.
He kept taking shots from multiple locations across the court and with less overthinking; he started to find his target with ease. This streak went on for minutes until he heard the sound of the door open. He wasn't really moved as he thought it was Mrs Jessica, who always came to clean the place whenever he was here.
He didn't look to the door and still in high spirits, he scored a really nice target from the edge of the court. He smiled at himself considering the feat.