"The nature of your problem is not something I am familiar with, so I asked a friend for help. He will come as soon as he is able."
Those were the words he opened with.
Early this morning, the doctor sent for me. He wanted to discuss the treatment he had in mind. He talked to me about the soul being out of sync with the mind and body, likely triggered by my traumatic awakening.
A sudden disruption of the trinity, he said.
Utter horseshit, is what I would have thought if I were the me back then.
But with the whole flames coming out of my hands and all this magical jargon mumbo-jumbo, I am somewhat convinced that I am in a place far different from what I know.
They have not started asking me about where I got the name Andres Generoso from, but I have a feeling that if I tell them the actual truth of what I know, it would only get me into more trouble.
The cutting-my-head-open kind of trouble.
Pretending not to know where I got the name from would be for the best, if they ever start asking.
Feigning memory loss too—which is not entirely a lie.
At least for now, I know that they are moving with Rell Zorias's best interests in mind. Whether this treatment will work is another story. I suppose it is a bridge I will cross in the very near future. Regardless, it is something that I need to undergo.
I have a few reasons for agreeing. One is that maybe I am actually losing my mind. Two is because I have no idea what is good for me. However, I feel that dilly-dallying would get me nowhere.
The faster I can leave this hospital, the sooner I can learn about this place.
Assuming this place even shares the same concept of what a hospital is that I know, it is likely that the basic ideas from my world would not be entirely dissimilar.
Another thing: after reflecting on everything that has happened in the last week I have been here, there is something uncanny I have just noticed.
It is that I have been generally accepting of everything that has been happening.
Even at the extreme moments, I was able to maintain a relative calm that feels almost inhuman.
I really want to ask people about all the questions I have, but I am afraid to say anything probing that might give away the fact that everything here is alien to me.
Proclaiming a different name is already weird enough; saying things that, once again, might hint at me, well, being not me, is an entirely different matter.
And even if I could, listing all the questions I have would probably lead to me having a mental breakdown of some kind.
I have around three to four days until the so-called soul expert arrives and performs the syncing procedure.
I will have to tread carefully until then.
-0-
"You don't talk much, do you?"
The same nurse who has been serving me food ever since I woke up spoke to me.
"There is not a lot to talk about," I replied, answering in a half-lie.
"Hmmm, maybe. Are you not curious about anything else?"
"Like what?"
"Something like the terror attack or your parents? Ever since you talked with Doctor William, we were given the green light to talk to you about these things. Of course, assuming that you are interested in talking about it... Sorry, that was too insensitive of me. Forget I said anything."
What an ice-breaker. I am glad she at least realized it quickly. If it were my real parents, I would probably be feeling livid right now—or maybe not. I think I would feel something for my old man at the very least.
Still, real parents, huh... I do not even know who the real me is, let alone who my parents are. It is like a twisted version of the chicken and the egg.
This is just so fucked up. I do not even want to think about where my wife and son are either.
Anyway, since she is offering, it would be impolite to decline.
"No, you are right," I answered back, trying to appear contemplative.
"What?" she replied, appearing puzzled by my response.
"I am just saying that I agree with you. To be honest, I have been feeling lost and have been keeping to myself this whole time. But I am starting to think you are right."
"..."
"I should be more proactive. Do more to help you help me. That is what you were trying to say, right?"
"Ye-yes, precisely that!"
A wide smile spread across her face as she hammered her fist into her palm.
Very animated, this woman.
"No time like the present," I said, trying to match her enthusiasm—an action that elicited an overwhelmingly positive response from the nurse.
She wants to help me, that much I can tell. I suppose this is a way of helping too, just not the kind she expects.
"What is your name, auntie?"
"Auntie?"
"Yeah, I want to know your name first."
"Very well, I am Anna. You may call me Sister. I don't think I am an auntie yet."
"Ah, I am sorry. You looked like my old aunt, so I instinctively called you auntie. I am very sorry, Sister."
I mustered an apologetic face, trying to make her feel sorry for me, my gaunt appearance doing the majority of the heavy lifting.
"Old? Wha—no, it is fine. Since I already know your name, we can skip your introductions and get straight to the topic!"
She is too nice. Now I am starting to feel a little bad.
Not.
"How exactly did my parents die?"
It is just a little harmless fun.