Doubts keep me awake. Day by day waiting for her to wake up. Wondering what she has to do with the tales of my family. As part of a long tradition of doctors in my family, I had heard of many strange cases, but one in particular had reached my hospital. My father told me, and his father before him, about a strikingly similar case that had altered their lives, and I felt I must uncover it.
"The towers! The towers!" Angela cried out in desperation when they found her in the street, trembling and visibly lost, then she fell asleep for days on end. Every time she woke up, she let out the same scream: "The towers! The towers!", before falling back asleep. I made sure to check her thoroughly, and found nothing wrong with her health. I did everything I could to be there when she woke up, but curiously she always seemed to wake up at the times when I was away. Why did every generation of my family encounter an "Angela"? What does it mean to me and how will it change my life?
I waited day and night, the uncertainty consuming me. What secrets does Angela hold? What are "The Towers"? If only my father were alive to offer me some guidance. I have no siblings, uncles, or cousins to turn to to understand what is happening and why I must stay by Angela's side. Anxiety and fear invade me every time I watch her sleeping, fearful of what I might uncover.
One night, she woke up while we were alone in the room, but this time she didn't scream. Her silence seemed even more unsettling than her screams that I had only heard from afar. I looked at her and, instead of asking how she was feeling or about her family, I forgot my medical calling, and in an act of sheer selfishness, my anxiety led me to directly ask: "What are 'The Towers'?"
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She told me that the souls of our ancestors accumulate above us, forming towers. Some souls help us and impart wisdom, but others, those of malevolent lives, corrupt and twist the tower. Angela had seen countless towers, some so horrendous that they had driven her to the brink of madness.
Hearing this, I understood what my father had tried to convey, and I knew what I had to do. I had found someone capable of seeing beyond human intentions, beyond the soul. I understood that seeing someone's "Tower" would be enough to discern their goodness or corruption.
Without asking how she had acquired this ability, I helped her into a wheelchair and hurried her out of the room. I needed to take her to a safe place; this knowledge was too valuable.
It was nighttime, and with few interns in the hallways, it was easy to move her. As I took her, she described to me the countless and extraordinary towers she had seen, as well as the horrendous piles of corrupted souls that had traumatized her.
When we arrived at our destination, she froze. She stared at me, and though her lips seemed to want to let out a word, her breath wasn't enough to let out any sound. She looked above me and I saw in her eyes that she hadn't found what she was looking for. I couldn't see it, but I felt it: A small mound with barely a rotting finger was all that was left of what should be my tower. A long tradition that I knew all too well. She, more driven by fear than reason, tried to run away but had not realized that her legs had long since stopped working, then, calmly, I covered her face and cut her throat. I left her body next to my other victims. No one could know of the existence of this ability, I had to be much more careful from now on.