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[Mombasa Hospital E.R. – August 4th]
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A room filled with medical equipment.
Monitors beeped rapidly. Wires, tubes, and machines surrounded a small hospital bed where a young boy lay motionless.
Emergency staff moved in controlled chaos—rushing, adjusting, stabilizing.
Voices overlapped. Orders were shouted. Equipment was being prepared without pause.
The atmosphere was tense.
Fragile.
Like one wrong move could break everything.
Dr. Mwenyeji: "Nurse Elli! Is the operating room ready?!"
Nurse Elli: "Ye… yes, Doctor!"
Her voice trembled slightly as she adjusted the equipment.
The boy lay still.
Too still.
Only minutes ago… there had been no pulse.
Now… there was.
Weak. Unstable. But there.
Dr. Mwenyeji stared at the monitor for a moment longer than necessary.
(This shouldn't be happening…)
"Increase oxygen flow," he ordered sharply.
A nurse quickly obeyed.
Beep… beep… beep…
The heart monitor filled the room like a fragile thread holding the boy to life.
Dr. Nichoke: "We lost him for over eight minutes… this is beyond standard resuscitation."
Dr. Mwenyeji didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the child.
Something about this case felt wrong.
Not medically wrong.
Something deeper.
Like the boy had been somewhere he wasn't supposed to be…
And hadn't fully returned.
"Prepare full diagnostic scans immediately," he said.
"No one leaves this room until every change is reported."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Only the machines spoke.
Beep… beep… beep…
And then—
The boy's finger moved.
Just slightly.
A twitch.
A nurse noticed immediately.
Nurse: "Doctor… he's reacting."
Dr. Mwenyeji's eyes narrowed.
(That's not a reflex…)
"Stay ready," he said quietly.
The room froze.
The boy's chest rose.
A shallow breath.
Then another.
The monitor responded—slightly faster.
Beep… beep… beep…
And then—
His eyes opened.
But something was wrong.
He wasn't looking at the room.
Not properly.
His gaze drifted as if focused on something layered behind reality itself.
Something no one else could see.
Dr. Nichoke: "Dhalik… can you hear me?"
Silence.
The boy blinked once.
Then again.
Slowly… his lips moved.
Dhalik: "…Still here?"
His voice was weak.
But not confused.
Almost like he was confirming a fact he already knew.
Nurse Elli: "Yes… yes, you're in the hospital. You survived."
At that word—*survived*—something changed in his expression.
A flicker.
Not relief.
Recognition.
Dhalik: "…No."
The room went still.
Dr. Mwenyeji: "What did you say?"
The boy swallowed slowly, eyes shifting slightly as if adjusting to multiple layers of vision.
Dhalik: "I didn't survive."
A pause.
His fingers tightened slightly on the bedsheet.
**Dhalik:** "I came back."
No one spoke.
The monitor beeped loudly in the silence.
Beep… beep… beep…
Dr. Nichoke: "He's in shock. That's normal after trauma—"
But Dr. Mwenyeji raised a hand.
"Wait."
He stepped closer.
Something about the boy's eyes unsettled him.
Not medically.
Structurally.
Like they weren't focusing on a single reality.
But several at once.
Dr. Mwenyeji: "Dhalik… what do you remember?"
A long silence.
Then—
Dhalik: "…A place that shouldn't exist."
The lights flickered once.
A brief disturbance.
No one spoke.
Dhalik: "There were… versions of me."
The monitors hesitated for a split second… then continued normally.
Dhalik: "Past me… present me… future me…"
His voice grew quieter.
Dhalik: "They were all looking at me."
A nurse swallowed hard.
Nurse Elli: "Doctor… should we sedate him?"
But before anyone could answer—
Dhalik's eyes widened slightly.
Not at them.
Past them.
As if something else had entered the room.
Something unseen.
Dhalik *whispering*: "…It followed me."
---
The heart monitor spiked.
Beep—BEEP—BEEP—
Then stabilized again.
Too quickly.
Too cleanly.
Too unnatural.
Dr. Mwenyeji took a slow step back.
For the first time in his career…
he wasn't sure if he was looking at a recovering patient.
Or something that had learned how to return.
To be continued…