I was back in bed, this time looking with horror at the doctor and nurse in front of me. Both of them had a clipboard and a pen in their hands, as if they were going to compare what they found. My parents had been asked to wait outside while they examined me, but that didn't make the situation any less terrifying.
I didn't understand what was happening to me, but for some reason, I was younger. It was like I'd gone back in time, but that didn't make sense. I didn't want to believe that was what had happened.
Because time travel wasn’t possible.Right?
But how was my mother here again? How did my father look so full of life? How did I look so small?
The problem was that if time travel was impossible, then what other explanation was there? Perhaps I had imagined myentire adult life, and nothing that happened actually existed; maybe it was simply a bad dream. This part sounded more logical than the other version, but why did I remember everything so vividly?
I no longer knew what was real.
"Let's do this again," the doctor said gently, clipboard in hand. He was middle-aged with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. "What's your name?"
"Lily Danault," I answered cautiously.
"How old are you?"
I hesitated. The rational part of my brain knew that saying "28" would only complicate things. But the truth was, I genuinely felt disoriented. My body felt wrong, too small, too awkward. My memories were a jumbled mess of adult experiences and teenage emotions. "I don't know."
The doctor and nurse exchanged a meaningful glance. The nurse started writing something on her clipboard, her pen making it so loud that it made my anxiety increase.
"What day is it?"
"April 2, 2025..." I caught myself too late, seeing the doctor's eyebrows rise. "I mean, 2012? 2017? 2018? I don't know..."
My heart hammered against my ribs.What was happening to me? Was I losing my mind? Or had I really somehow slipped backward through time?
The doctor set his own clipboard down, his expression grave as he studied me over the top of his glasses.
"We examined you from head to toe. All the tests showed you were perfectly fine. Either you're trying to avoid certain questions because you don't want to go to school or something similar, or you have temporary amnesia caused by the injury, which is weird, taking into account that your friend also has the same symptoms."
My pulse quickened. "Kyle?"
The doctor thought about it for a minute, like he had to remember the name correctly, and then nodded. "The other young man who is also volunteering with you here at the hospital, yes."
I felt relief and anxiety at the same time. Kyle was okay. He had taken the brunt of the explosion more directly, but apparently, he was fine, too. Although what the doctor had just said caught my attention. If Kyle was experiencing the same psychological symptoms as me, then maybe I wasn't losing my mind. But that would mean…
"How is he? Is he awake?" My voice sounded higher, younger, unfamiliar to my own ears. I still wasn't used to hearing it.
"Yes, he is in the room next to you, but I can't let you go out of this room without knowing for certain that you are fine."
I needed to see him. I needed to know if he remembered what I remembered. The office, the kiss, the explosion. If he did, then maybe we could figure this out together.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm completely fine," I said, standing up from the bed too quickly. Blood rushed from my head, making me dizzy, but I steadied myself against the wall. When I walked, my limbs felt strange, like they weren't quite mine, but I tried to act normally, like I was perfectly fine. "Thanks."
Before the doctor could protest, I was out the door, ignoring the slight wobble in my knees. I moved as quickly as I could to the next door, expecting to see him there.
Thankfully, my parents weren't in the waiting room. I could only imagine the questions they'd have, questions I wasn't prepared to answer. I slipped into the next room without being seen, only to find it empty. The bed was neatly made, no sign that anyone had been there.
"Kyle?" I called softly, stupidly, as if he might be hiding somewhere in the small room. But he wasn’t here.
I started to panic. What if I was wrong? What if I really was losing my mind, and Kyle was still in 2025, perhaps injured or worse from the explosion? What if I were stuck here alone, in this younger body, in this past life I'd worked so hard to escape?
Please, Kyle, I really hope you remember everything.I knew it was a selfish wish, but I didn't want to be alone at the most traumatic point in my life.
I forced myself to breathe deeply, to think logically. The doctor had said Kyle was awake. He had to be somewhere in the hospital.
I walked along several corridors, scanning each face I passed. Nurses bustled by with charts in hand. Visitors carried flowers and gift bags. But no sign of him. Eventually, I made my way to the nurses' station, where a middle-aged woman looked up as I approached.
