John Hopkins General Hospital

Dr. Martha Brown's office,

Sitting over her desk, Dr. Martha Brown was looking at her colleague.

Her colleague was reading the file on the new patient, who kept her busy in the last few days.

But as Dr. Hall read on, she noticed that there was a big frown on his face.

"I didn't know it was him. Hell. Those are some bad wounds. Is he still sedated?"

" No, he woke up yesterday, and refused any sedative or any painkiller."

"Why?"

"I don't know. He doesn't talk, barely eats, and gives him any medicine has been a fight. He even tears off his cannula needle."

"Well, look at his story. Have you asked for a psychologist's consultation?"

Hearing this question, she went back to her desk and took a new folder.

As she gave it to him, she summarized it.

"The psychologist tries to talk to him, but with little success."

He refused to answer any questions. To be honest, he just ignored us.

But from what he saw, the psychologist thinks he is looking for a way to suffer, a twisted way to punish himself for what happened."

As he read the files, he kept listening to Dr. Brown's explanation.

"Have you taken any precautions to prevent him from committing suicide?"

"That's the question. For the psychologist, he won't look for suicide. He'll only look for a way to inflict pain on himself."

Room 253

In one of the hospital's rooms, a guy lay on a bed; under a hospital gown, a toned body with long and powerful muscle built by hours of training.

From under the sheet appeared a face with an untreated beard and unruly dark brown hair, and under his dark eyes, a shape-tear scar under his left eyes overcast the freckles.

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An empty and unfocused gaze was staring at the ceiling.

That would have been just one of the usual sleepless nights that kept torment him, if not for a strange mist that has risen from the floor.

As he kept staring at the ceiling, he didn't notice the mist until it reached the high of a meter, but instead of filling the room, the fog kept raising along the walls; but instead of surprise, his eyes showed only resignation and acceptance.

He waited for the end to arrive, but after a few minutes, the mist covered all the walls and the ceiling, but no fire, no screams, nor any sounds come, only silence pervaded the room.

".. that not the look I remember you had."

Suddenly, a voice sounded inside the room.

In front of a window, now covered by the fog, a woman was now looking outwards, towards a horizon that was no longer visible.

Even if a head full of white hair and few wrinkles revealed her age, they couldn't hide her peerless beauty.

Her hair flowed down to her waist, combined in a mix of tousled curls and braids.

On her forehead, a black tiara with gems, pearls, and chains descended on the face, adorning it.

She was wearing a silver-colored dress with a long train and golden, red, and black embroidery.

A pristine beauty, the pinnacle of perfection.

While turning herself to look at him, a small smile appeared on her face.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"Who are you?"

He raised his head from the pillow, stares at her for a few moments, and then lost interest after a fleeting look.

Her smirk grew up a little while she turned her look at the floor.

"Does it really matter?"

After, she looked at him again.

"Who am I? What am I? Why? Does matter? You don't care. You never cared."

She took few steps to get near the bed, the knock of her cane resounded in the room.

Concentrated on the swirling of the mist on the ceiling, he didn't notice that the lady took a few steps to approach the bed.

She was now at the foot of the bed.

She looked at him, gazing at his eyes, his face, looked at him like she was studying his face, like to remember.

She knocked the cane on the floor. The fog started to swirl in a circle.

"Don't worry, we'll see again. "

The mist moved faster and faster until it created a stable circle with golden borders.

The circle flicked, pulsing more and more.

The light became more and more intense until the light immersed all room in a white light.

Immersed in the white light, he could see nothing until a whistle disrupted his mind.

He lost his sense, and he disappeared from the bed.

Even after he has gone, she stayed there, staring at the place where he was.

When he wakes up, something hard was on his face; he held out his hands to raise his body and found out he was lying on the ground; the taste of dust and grass filled his mouth.

He tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright. Dizziness overwhelmed him.

Getting on all fours, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw a few brushes and a forest in the distance.

He was lying in what looks like the ridge of a mountain.

Fatigue and dizziness assaulted him again, so he decided to lie down on the back to catch from fresh air.

He raised his gaze to look at the blue sky.

The sun was down, probably about to set.

The hot light of the sun and a light breeze help him recover a bit.

In the distance, he could hear some animal.

A lot of questions popped out in his head; until he realized that behind the sun there were three moons.