This morning I wake up with a massive headache and an aching body. I wince after trying to move my legs off the bed. I muster the drive to push past the pain of my sore muscles and stand on the cold wooden floor. I pull away from the lure of sleep, standing in a daze at the edge of the bed. I shake off the migraine that plagues my head and stretch my body. I can hear Mother in the kitchen cooking breakfast, a mix of savory smells engulfs my room, and my stomach responds with a loud growl. I am compelled to walk to the kitchen, my body moving faster than my mind. Before stepping out the door, I look at my unkempt room, books spiraled on the floor, and my bed in a mess of pillows and blankets. It’s been a month since my parents saved me from the wolves, and the relationship between myself and them has been mended. They’ve shown me what it means to be loved. But recently I’ve been feeling ill. At first, it was just a mild headache, but a few days ago my muscles were aching and my head felt like it was splitting. I can’t even be bothered to keep my room tidy anymore.

Walking down the stairs, I see Mother cutting a bundle of leafy greens in the kitchen. My voracious appetite gets the better of me, and I take a quick seat at the dining table.

“My love good morning!” Mother says as she makes a small bowl of salad.

“Breakfast will be ready soon alright? Here, have this for now.”

She kisses me on my forehead and places the bowl before me. I grab my fork and dive into the plate of greens, each bite tastes better than the last. The next scoop I take is empty air, and I groan at the lack of sustenance. I slouch in my chair as a sudden wave of exhaustion hits my body. Everything feels so out of place; I’m trying to hold myself together but everything feels like they’re going in opposite directions.

Mother turns around and places her hand on my forehead.

“Eva, are you alright? You’re burning hot!”

I clutch Mother’s hand and place it against my cheek.

“Mother, I don’t feel right.”

My vision turns blurry. My body collapses on the floor and I hear Mother screaming my name.

I want to tell Mother I’m ok and I’ll be ready for breakfast soon. I just need some rest.

. . . . .

The aches and sores around my body are gone, and the splitting headache that tore me apart has disappeared. I’m in my old room, with moldy walls, and dusty floors. Trash littered across the floor with half-drunken bottles of soda left underneath my desk. My body moves before I can think; I feel trapped within this dreamscape. In a moment I’m sat in the kitchen that housed all my fears and worries. I try to tell myself that this place is nothing more than a dream, that, like my past self, it’s all dead and buried. I clench my eyes, wishing this dream away, but it doesn't end. A woman is sitting across from me. I fail to recognize her at the moment, her overwhelmingly bright and cheery eyes standing out in this dreary room. She places her hand on mine, squeezing it for reassurance.

“I’m so happy to see you, but you have to go.”

She leans over the table and wraps her arms around my head, laying a tender kiss on my forehead.

“Live your life, don’t live mine.”

Her voice was a familiar sound, an echo of the girl who raised me. How could I have ever forgotten you?

“Hana?”

I want to grab her and bring her with me, to drag her into this wonderful world. But before I can reach out, she pushes my chest and I descend into darkness. My sister watches over me with a smile until she is completely out of view. I try to scream her name, but I feel my throat tightening. It’s suffocating, I try to reach out to her, but all I’m reaching for is the dark. The dream collapses, and once again I’m left alone.

. . . . .

I wake up gasping for air. I take deep and heavy breaths trying to stabilize myself. I reach out to grab something but end up falling out of bed. I hit the ground with a loud thud; my body recoils in pain and shock. I hear a heavy pair of footsteps rush up the stairs and my door swings open with a loud crash.

“Eva!” Father reaches for me and cradles me in his arms.

“What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting.”

He places me back in bed and gives me a tender kiss on my forehead.

“Dad, what’s happening to me?”

His eyes flicker and a grimace forms on his face, but he quickly wipes it away with a soft smile.

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“Nothing, you just have a cold. Rest in here and I’ll be back with some food.” He hugs me before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

I want to follow him but my body still aches. As I sit and wait for Dad to come back, I think back to the dream I saw. It felt so real and visceral. I still recall everything, as if it was a memory of my past life. But my sister looked different than how I remember. The only memories I have are the ones in the hospital. The sickly pale skin, brittle bones, and sunken eyes. Her body was so small as if she regressed into a child. But in the dream, she was a vibrant memory of the woman I wanted her to be. Maybe that’s just how I wanted to remember her. Before I said goodbye to the world I left behind, I wished to see my sister at her best. She would have loved this place. A humble life, away from the constraints of our mother. We could have done so much here, an adventure of our own. I click my tongue and rub my eyes with disappointment. I’m filling myself with regret again. I need to look forward, Hana would have wanted me to enjoy this life, with or without her. I distract myself by attempting to move my body. I try to lift my hand, but before I can even attempt to raise it off the bed, a sharp electrical pain runs through my arm and into my stomach. I almost hurl in my bed but I try my best to hold it in. I feel fragile, like a broken mirror being delicately held together. I try my best to stay perfectly still, the aches on my body are making me anxious to move. I close my eyes to force myself back to sleep, but I start thinking if this illness is terminal. It feels terminal. What if my life is cut short? Will I reincarnate again? Or will this death be my final one? Do I end up in this afterlife or will I end up in Earth’s afterlife? Are they even separate?

A knock makes my head instinctively turn toward the door, followed by a loud disgruntled groan.

“Oh, she’s up! Good, this will make the procedure easier.” I hear a muffled voice behind the door with the clatterings of various tools.

Another knock on the door is set before a tall entity completely covered in a thick black fabric and a belt around her waist. An assortment of trinkets and viles jingle as they step through the door.

“Hello Eva, I'm Doctor Sylvie, a friend of your parents.”

The figure fully enters my room and I make a nervous glance at her face. Its face is completely covered in a mask similar to a plague doctor. I’ve seen pictures and drawings of them online that made them cute, but in person, it’s eerie and signals death.

“I’m going to give you a physical, just a quick little check-up to see what I’m working with.”

I shirk at the idea of having to go through a physical exam.

Doctor Sylvie stops and looks around in a confused manner. She then looks at their garments and exclaims, “Oh! I’m so sorry I’m used to treating adults. I’m probably scaring you aren’t I?”

I shake my head. I don’t want this procedure to take longer than it should, and besides, she seems much more affectionate than they appear to be.

“Don’t worry, it will only take a few minutes, and at the end, I’ll give you a treat, ok?”

That seals the deal for me.

I fiercely shake my head and the doctor takes a seat at the bed.

After many examinations ranging from a cough test to weight and height, my initial skepticism of this doctor retreated. They don’t seem at all different from modern doctors, I was expecting less “blood pressure test” and more “bloodletting.”

“Don’t worry, this will only take a moment.” She places her hand on my stomach, and a small, gentle light appears. I feel an energy surrounding my body and traveling along my limbs. It feels tender, and the aches that plague me slowly fade.

I can hear Sylvie groan beneath her mask, and her hand shakes, struggling to stay straight.

“Oh my,” her breath is trembling, “I’m so sorry.” Sylvie retracts her hand, the light fading and her trembling stops.

She packs her things and quickly gets up from the bed. They reach the door, but before Sylvie walks out, they stop and return to my bedside, rummaging through her large leather bag.

“I almost forgot,” Sylvie pulls out a fragrant and brightly colored hard candy wrapped in a thin film.

“Thank you for being a good patient.” She pats me on the head and swiftly runs out of the room and I hear her stumble down the doorsteps.

Their frantic movement out the door rang alarms in my head. I crack off a piece of the hard candy and pop it into my mouth to calm my nerves. It’s sweet, and sour, and has a slight floral taste that reminds me of tea. I melt into my bed and mellow out.

An hour passes and I’m feeling worried about my diagnosis. I try to reach for another piece, but my hand waves through the air. I sigh and I try to push myself up from the bed. The aches transitioned from a sharp pain to a dull pressure on my body. I take it slow and brace myself. Sneaking out of the room, I step down the stairs towards the kitchen. I peek by the stairs and roughly hear voices in the other room.

“Marcus I’m not training her! She doesn’t need to be dragged into this at all.”

“But didn’t you hear Sylvie? She needs training if she wants to get any better. Who could teach her but us?”

“The problem isn’t who’s teaching her, it’s what we’re teaching her. She’s just like us, always wanting to seek out more, but this hurt her more than if we were to leave her alone.”

I haven’t seen my parents in a heated argument like this before, usually, if there was a dispute it was solved in less than a minute. But whatever they’re talking about, it’s not going to be settled by the two of them.

I shake my head and enter the kitchen.

“I’ll do it,” I say with a soft voice. My parents aren’t listening, they are engulfed in their quarrel.

“I said I’ll do it!” I yell at my parents sitting at the table. I don’t know what is making my parents have a screaming match, but I can’t be afraid of it.

“Eva! What are you doing out of bed?” My father lunges at me and holds me steady.

“I’m feeling better Father don’t worry. Nobody came to visit me so I wanted to see what’s going on.”

Father chuckles and rubs my head, “So young and already so strong.”

Mother folds her arms and looks away, “I know what you’re doing Marcus, my answer is still no.”

“It’s not about us anymore Lucina, what we need to do is for the sake of Eva.”

Father picks me up and cradles me in his arms.

“We would do anything for her right? It’s about time we let go.”

He carries me to Mother, who looks at me with somber eyes. There's a pain in them that is being locked away. I know all too well what it means to be hurt so much it affects everything you will ever do. Your future is tainted by the past. I reach out and hold her face; whatever it is, I won’t have her carry that pain alone. Mother holds my hands and nods, saying only two words,

“I’ll try.”