As the flame continue to erupt in a rampage. I stood shocked by what I was witnessing.
The anger I was feeling mere moments ago, disappeared in a flash. Doused by the confusion brought forth by the fire raging in front of me.
Suddenly, I felt a warmth touch both my arms, a soothing feeling, as if water flowing, slowly sending the raging flames to a calm fizzle.
There, I found the doctor's hands pressing on my arms.
Wholly unaffected by the flames that previously enveloped him.
"Sit." He said in a calm voice.
Not knowing how to process what had just happened, I complied.
"What is your name, child."
"Andres... Andres Generoso." I looked at him, trying to gauge anything out of the answer I had given him.
It was ridiculous, being unsure of something as simple as your own name.
An aspect of myself that has remained true for all of my life.
Not once have I thought of being in a situation as comical and nightmarish as this.
After hearing my answer, he let out a desponded sigh and tilted his head down which hid his expression.
Feeling the need to learn something, anything, I leaned closer to peer into his face.
And I wish I hadn't.
The sheer look of destruction marred his expression, his eyes locked onto mine.
He was obviously feeling pity, grief for whatever it is that is happening to me.
And it was freaking me out.
This whole weak has been an enigma.
It's either a joke taken too far or a conspiracy against me.
Regardless, I pray that it will soon end.
Seeing the doctor poised to speak, I interrupted him.
"I need to rest, please leave the room."
Knowing that what I'm about to hear won't be any more pleasant than what he's already told me. I decided that now is not the right time.
I need some space to think.
Or maybe I shouldn't for the moment.
The doctor understood my need to be alone. He nodded his head and asked for the room to be vacated.
-0-
A few hours later I awoke into the middle of the night, my thoughts drawing blank.
I looked down at the blanket covering my body and pulled both my arms out to observe them.
Fresh and full of youth is how I would describe it. A weird phrasing to describe ones limb, or one's anything for that matter but, what has not been weird for me as of late anyway?
These hands, there were not mine.
That, I was sure of.
If my hands weren't the same, chances are, other parts of me might be different too.
A ridiculous thought but, I'm most likely not in my own body.
Am I even me?
Then from the corner of my, on the bedside table, a file was placed on it's surface.
Patient information: Rell Zorias.
I picked it up, knowing that it was probably left here for me to read intentionally.
I gathered my courage flipping the first page.
The details of his birth, his maternal and paternal unit, address, blood type.
Even details that I couldn't understand but is evidently of import such as: house, origin/lineage, alignment are written down.
Flipping the page further showed what seemed to be a family tree; expansive and well detailed. Including even a small portrait of said persons.
Going through the pages, more information surrounding Rell was written down. The majority of them, information that is far too alien for me to make sense.
At some point, realising the futility of going further I placed the file down. Feeling contemplative, I looked at my palms, trying to glean anything from them.
Fully knowing that I would get nothing out of it.
I picked up the file intending to place it back on top of the bedside table but that's when I noticed a hand mirror.
It was being covered up by the file so I didn't see it before.
After reading the file just now, there was no way I wouldn't look into it, so I did.
Two red pupils were staring right back at me.
Shallow cheeks unable to hide the shape contours of the face reflected back.
It was bald too but, by the red brows adorned by it, the hair is probably of the same colour.
I should be surprised. I am.
But I don't have the bandwidth to be, right at this moment.
Accepting is easier than trying to deny or reason.
There probably is a reason however, now is not the right moment for it.
-0-
The next day, after following the usual care routine that I always received from the nurses, I was given a message by the doctor named William from the day prior through one of those said nurses.
He asked if I was ready to talk about the possibility for treatment at a later time. Something about the soul and a specialist that he will vouch for.
As usual, it didn't make sense to me.
Nothing has in a while.
The best I could do was trust that this doctor William has my best interest in mind.