"I... I'm starting to feel numbness in my toes," thought Rael, lying on the bed, gazing at the doctors and machines behind them. It was an odd sensation, as if his own body was slowly slipping away from his awareness.
Rael closed his eyes and began to recall memories of his life. It was like flipping through a book of moments, each page filled with emotions, experiences, and fragments of his journey.
He was born with a rare disease that severely affected his immune system, making it impossible for him to leave the house. One day, curiosity and a longing for the outside world had driven him to secretly venture beyond the threshold of his sheltered existence.
But the consequences were dire—two weeks of hospitalization, a sharp reprimand from concerned parents, and a reminder that the world beyond was not for him. It was a turning point; Rael's physical boundaries became clearer, but his imagination flourished.
His room became his universe, the hospital a temporary escape. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the familiar warmth of his bed.
Books, his constant companions, transported him to distant lands, different eras, and vast realms of thought. The window was a portal to a world he could observe but not touch.
Fortunately, his father was a wealthy businessman who could afford the best medical equipment and medications available.
knowing that he wouldn't live past the age of ten, Rael's parents fulfilled all his wishes. It wasn't indulgence—it was a way to give their son a lifetime's worth of experiences in a fraction of the time.
Despite his illness, Rael didn't give up and continued studying at home. He spent hours reading without interruption. In the course of his learning, he discovered he was a genius, able to grasp concepts that took others hours to understand in just half an hour.
By the age of eight, he had completed his university education at the world's top university. The letters of acceptance and the stack of course materials were tokens of his triumphs, but also reminders of the life he could never fully embrace.
As the days turned into years, Rael matured faster than his peers, not just intellectually but emotionally. He faced mortality every day, his acceptance a badge of honor he wore with quiet pride.
He watched his parents grapple with grief and helplessness, their tears hidden but never absent. And through it all, he wondered about the fragility of existence, the worth of a life confined yet so intensely lived.
But what he didn't expect was that he wouldn't live to see his tenth birthday. As he turned eight and completed his university studies, his condition worsened, confining him to the hospital with no possibility of leaving.
Disconnecting the machines meant immediate death. Each beep of the machines was a stark reminder of his dwindling time, a countdown that echoed in the sterile room.
The beeping machine interrupted Rael's thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find that his heart rate had started to drop, and his vision was becoming blurred. He couldn't move his head anymore.
It was a strange sensation, like being suspended between two worlds—the known and the unknown.
Rael looked at his frail body, weakened by the disease and the doctors' attempts to treat him. He spent half his time in the hospital getting blood and bone marrow extracted and receiving numerous injections every month, but all these efforts only increased his suffering.
His body had become a battlefield, a testing ground for medical ingenuity, a canvas of scars and punctures.
Rael raised his gaze to see his parents crying behind the glass, and then he looked at the doctors with expressions ranging from pain to regret and sympathy.
Most of these doctors had been with him for years, so seeing them like this didn't surprise him. They were more than medical practitioners; they were his companions in this journey.
Then he looked around the room and noticed a clock above the door showing the time and date. "Ah? Isn't today my birthday?" Rael thought as he glanced at the clock. Time seemed to stretch and contract, an elastic concept that felt both infinite and fleeting.
Suddenly, Rael felt his consciousness fading, and his head fell back onto the bed, but unexpectedly, in his final moments, his emotions flared up, and tears filled his eyes. It was an intricate tapestry of sensations—fear, longing, regret, but also a glimmer of hope.
"Why am I crying? I already accepted my fate; there's no reason to cry." The tears were a contradiction, a silent protest against a destiny he had come to terms with.
Despite his thoughts, the tears continued to flow. They were a testament to his humanity, a reminder that acceptance didn't equate to indifference.
"No, I still want to live! I want to live!" Rael's last moments were filled with a desire to live, an intense craving for the world beyond his confined existence. But even so, death didn't stop, and his consciousness became hazy until everything turned black.
...
"Ah? Why can I still think?" It was a bewildering realization, a spark of awareness in the abyss of nothingness.
Although his consciousness had stopped for a moment, Rael felt his thoughts returning. They were like fragments of light in the darkness, feeble yet persistent.
Boom!
Intense pain rushed through Rael's consciousness, as if he had fallen from a high-rise building onto a metal surface. It was a jarring sensation, disorienting and surreal.
"Wait? I can feel it. How?" The pain was a lifeline, a confirmation that he existed in some form.
Suddenly, the world around him turned white, and his vision slowly became clear. It was like emerging from a fog, his surroundings materializing with a new kind of clarity.
When his vision returned to normal, Rael felt as though he could move his body again, but he felt a strange sensation as if he were in a different body. It was like wearing a suit that fit but didn't belong.
He looked around, searching for the doctors, but all he could see were vials, plants, and unfamiliar organs. The smell of blood filled the air, and the blood, despite its familiar smell, was green in color. It was an otherworldly sight, a vivid departure from everything he had known.
"Ah? Who are you? What am I doing here?" Rael's voice wavered, a mixture of curiosity and unease. The man before him stood as an enigma, a key to unraveling the mysteries of this new reality.
Everything was foreign the architecture of the room, the specimens around him, the very air he breathed. Even his own body seemed like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.
"Hmm? Did the sample lose its memory due to the experiment? Perhaps the remaining willpower in the vampire's blood caused it to destroy its memories," the man's words were a riddle, a glimpse into a narrative Rael couldn't yet fathom.
"What are you talking about-" Rael's inquiry was cut short, the man's interruption a reminder of the power dynamic at play.
"Be quiet," the man's command carried weight, a force that pressed against Rael's senses, silencing not just his words but his very being. It was a sensation of surrender, a recognition that in this realm, understanding was a privilege, and compliance a necessity.