07/05/1164

House of an Unknown Man…

“Who am I?“

My eye went wide as a saucer as I pondered over the words which spilled out of my mouth.

I kept muttering that over and over to myself, unable to find the correct answer, no matter how I searched. To my dismay, I couldn’t recall anything prior to this day. As if I was just born today or I appeared out of nowhere.

Before I realized, my head rested within my right palm as my feeble fingers tried to dig into my skull. My left hand clawed at the sheets, still trembling as beads of sweat dripped along my skin. My chest hurt without any wound I could see or feel. Yet, I didn’t feel like crying — there were no tears whatsoever.

The man extended his hand towards mine. When his palm met my hand, a pain which made me shiver all over spread from my hand to my whole body. The bandages where he touched were soon dyed in crimson. While sucking in a cold breath, I tried my best to hold back the scream about to escape my mouth.

Unwilling to wait for myself to calm down, I hurriedly shifted my gaze to him.

He bent down and picked up a box before placing it at the bedside. When he opened the box, a palpable scent of medicine drifted from the box, blanketing the entire room. An array of bottles filled with colorful and colorless fluids and various other tools revealed itself.

Then he began unwrapping the bandages over my right arm. Drop after drop, blood trickled down my arm, staining the sheets the same color.

However, my attention was glued to the fact that my arm was skinny like a bone under skin with no muscles whatsoever.

If this man can be blown away by some wind, then what about me? Blow away without wind? Float like this? I shot myself in the foot there, didn’t I? I continued to demean myself in an attempt to humor myself, while repeatedly failing at it miserably, all in order to not flip out and snatch my hand back. Che, humor is, without a doubt, not my thing.

I kept looking at what the man was doing. He threw the unwrapped bandages to his back before turning to the box full of bottles. After picking out some cotton and a bottle full of orange liquid, he applied the liquid to the cotton. Then, he began wiping my arm with the cotton, occasionally swapping the piece he used for a new one.

Like a master craftsman, he kept on wiping, revealing crumpled skin with every wipe. A few minutes later, my arm was clean, not a sign of the blood from before. In an almost mechanical manner, he pulled out a roll of fabric — bandages to be particular — from the box before wrapping them around my arm.

Once again, I sucked in an icy breath as the bandage touched my skin. I closed my eye to not look at the scene, hoping it would help alleviate the pain. Time seemed to come to a crawl.

The man kept on wrapping the bandages as if unaware of my suffering. Whereas, I too, didn’t make a sound, afraid of disturbing him. Occasionally, I would open my eye a crack to steal a glance or two, to shut it immediately after.

A few minutes of an awkward silence and a few glances at the man’s somewhat pained, somewhat disappointed expression later, sounds of hurried footsteps gushed in from my left.

I turned my head to find an old man rushing in through the door.

The top of his head was lacking any hair growth, whereas white hair grew from the sides. Wrinkles painted his aged face. The skin on his hand looked like crumpled paper as he extended his hand towards me. His white coat fluttered in the wind, permeating the scent of medicine through the air, as if he bathed with it in the morning.

While waiting for the man with chestnut hair to finish bandaging my arm, the old man circled around me, inspecting me thoroughly as he did. The man in the wheelchair knotted the bandage before withdrawing to the back.

The old man stood before me as he placed his hand just above mine, his eyes knitted together in a thoughtful look. With a sensation akin to something warm flowing along my arm, it began to glow with a faint light with color similar to that of white-gold.

Creaking sounds filled the room, consequently causing panic to grip my heart. A sense of unease filled me as I stared nervously at the old man.

The old man was muttering something inaudible under his breath while he focused solely on my arm.

Feeling a sense of comfort from the light, relief filled me as I let out a breath I didn't know was held back. My heart settled back in my chest and my breath turned regular. About five to ten minutes later, the light coming from his palm vanished as he put his hand behind his back.

Looking back at me, he said, “Kid, try to move your arm a little.”

Gulping in saliva, I nodded as I clenched my fist. Following the sounds of my joints creaking, my eyes went wide. Astonishment filled my eyes as the pain in my hand was all but gone.

A doctor! A part of my concerns was relieved as I looked at the old man. Realizing that I was making a fool of myself, I lay down still, unwilling to move.

Looking at me making a fool of myself, the old man gave a warm smile before turning to the man with chestnut hair. With a raspy voice, the old man spoke to the other man, “William, I gave him the immediate treatment, and he should be fairly stable. And he is finally awake. But now, what are you going to do about the situation with his mo—”