After Imad flipped through some medical analysis papers, he looked at the impatient officer with half an eye and muttered,
"His vitals look good. There's no harm in interrogating him if it doesn't exhaust him."
"We still don't know what happened and how the tumor suddenly disappeared, so we'll keep him under observation."
Nasr tilted his head and said,
"I won't electrocute him if that's what you mean."
Before Imad could leave, Nasr pulled him closer and continued,
"Dr. Imad, what about the patient's mental state?"
Imad answered with interest, saying,
"Why? Did something seem wrong to you?"
"I don't know yet; I just wanted to make sure I wasn't
recording hallucinations in an official investigation."
Emad adjusted his glasses in confusion, then said:
"To be honest: I cannot be certain of anything. We are talking about a person who returned from the world of the dead without any warning. We - doctors - just as we worry about a patient during his illness attacks, we also pay great attention to someone who suddenly becomes clean without a convincing medical explanation. This may be a prelude to a major relapse, or it may not be, but I can be certain of one thing without any discussion, which is that the Adam I know would not harm an insect, let alone commit a murder. Therefore, I advise you to search hard for the truth and not to take the information in front of you as a given. If you will allow me: I find accusing him of these cases ridiculous, but - of course - I will leave the final word to you, because in the end these are my limits, which is to evaluate his health condition and nothing more."
Then Emad disappeared into the hall, leaving his words to echo in Nasr's mind, and confusion began to form more on his features.
As Nasr entered my room, he bumped into Safwat's shoulder, who was about to leave. He bumped into the shoulder of one of the doors of truth, but he wasn't sure yet.
He grabbed his wrist, stopping him, saying:
"What are you doing here?"
He said it suspiciously as he looked at the policeman
at the door of the room who had come quickly, holding the zipper of his pants. He said apologetically and eagerly:
"I apologize; I was in the bathroom."
I took the initiative to say:
"Mr. Lieutenant Colonel, he is one of the company's employees who came to check on me."
Safwat looked at him carefully, searched him well, and when he didn't find anything, he gestured for him to go, then turned around to order the other policeman firmly:
"Don't leave your place and don't allow anyone to enter. This is your last warning. Understand?"
After that, he closed the door on us, then took out a small recorder from his coat pocket and placed it next to me. He turned to take off his coat, placing it on a wooden rack in the corner of the room, as if to tell me without words that we would not be leaving any time soon.
He sat quietly, then pointed to the record player beside me.
"All ears," he said.
I looked at him with stifled anger, anxiety eating away at my insides.
Despite everything, he was right; he was doing his duty, and that's what I would do if I were him.
But I had no choice but to tell him in these handcuffs. I knew he would call me crazy...
I knew what I was about to say would sound like nonsense...
Who can stand the truth?
The truth that ties my neck and pulls me into the ocean without breathing, without a wetsuit, sucks me into the coral reefs, amidst a school of sharks, one of them biting my head off and the other tearing my body apart.
I knew he wouldn't like what I was going to say, but I was going to say it anyway.
I closed my eyes for a moment to recall what had happened about twenty days before, and then I began to tell the story.