You are at the park with your friends—Prayut, Petra, Cindy, Lucas, and Vicente—scattered around and mingling with kids you don't know, two girls and three boys, all under the warm sun.
Laughter echoes through the air, vibrant and infectious. You notice Petra clutching her doll tightly, her face a mask of unease, overwhelmed by the unfamiliar crowd.
Beside you, Vicente stifles a yawn, clearly uninterested in the games unfolding around him, his laziness almost a tangible presence.
Suddenly, one of the boys, eyes gleaming with excitement, points toward the forest.
Boy: Why don't we play hide and seek? In the forest!
You see the adventure in his proposal, a new territory to conquer. Your heart leaps at the idea, and you don't hesitate.
Lysander: Sounds awesome! Let’s go for it!
Cindy, hardly ever backing down from a challenge, nods vigorously, her pigtails bouncing. Prayut's face splits into a wide grin, already plotting his hiding strategy.
But Petra frowns, her voice soft and hesitant, tugging at your sleeve.
Petra: But, Lysander, it's dark in there...
You pat her hand gently, offering a reassuring smile.
Lysander: Don’t worry, we’ll stick together. It’ll be fun, you’ll see!
Vicente, on the other hand, sighs heavily. His voice is light, but there’s a hint of reluctance in it. You chuckle, knowing how he is.
Vicente: Do we have to? I was comfortable right here...
Lysander: You’re not getting out of this one. Come on, it'll be fun.
As you all head toward the forest, the shadows of the trees seem to dance, inviting you into a world of mystery and play.
The thrill of the game ahead sparks a fire in your belly, eager to explore the unknown.
Reaching the edge of the forest, Prayut takes charge, his voice bubbling with excitement.
Prayut: I'll count! Everyone hide!
He claps his hands and turns away, beginning his count, and the rest of you scatter.
You notice Vicente hesitating, his eyes wide as he looks around—everyone has darted off in different directions, and he stands frozen.
You quickly grab his hand, pulling him along with a reassuring grin.
Lysander: Come on, this way!
You both dash deeper into the woods, leaves crunching underfoot, until you find a thick bush that looks perfect for hiding. Ducking behind it, you both crouch down, breaths heavy from the run.
He looks at you, relief washing over his face.
Vicente: Thanks, Lyss. I didn't know where to go.
His gratitude is evident, his smile genuine and a little shy. You just nod.
You and Vicente huddle behind the thick bush, your giggles muffled by your hands as you both try to stay quiet. Vicente's eyes sparkle with amusement, a contrast to his usual reserved demeanor.
Lysander: Shhh, they'll hear us!
But even as you say it, you can't help but chuckle, the excitement of the game making it hard to keep silent.
Suddenly, the ground trembles beneath you. Your heart skips a beat—not from the game, but from fear as the earth begins to shake violently.
Without thinking, you act, pushing Vicente to the ground for safety. Your body covers his, shielding him from any falling debris.
Lysander: It’s okay, just stay down!
Vicente's face crumples in fear, tears starting to spill as the shaking intensifies. You hold him tighter, whispering reassurances, trying to soothe his fears as the world trembles around you.
Vicente: Lyss, I’m scared!
Your voice is steady, a stark contrast to the chaos around you, as you do your best to comfort him.
Lysander: I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.
You feel the ground lurch beneath you, and you tighten your hold, determined to protect Vicente no matter what.
As you shielding him with your body, a tree branch crashes down, striking your back. The impact is sharp, a jolt of pain that makes you grit your teeth.
You make no sound, determined not to frighten Vicente any further. His face is buried against you, his small arms wrapped tight beneath you, feeling none of the chaos.
Your voice is a strained whisper, but you force calm into it, hiding the wince that threatens to surface.
Lysander: Just hold on, it’s almost over.
Curiously, the initial sharp ache fades quickly, leaving a strange sensation along your skin. It’s as if something is moving beneath the surface, piercing but oddly not painful.
You remain still, not wanting to alarm Vicente, whose grip tightens in response to the ongoing tremors.
As the ground finally stills, you take a deep breath, easing the tension in your shoulders, and assess the situation silently.
The branch on your back isn't trapping you, but you're acutely aware of the odd, almost electric pulses skittering across your skin, a mystery you keep to yourself for now.
You sit up carefully, pushing the heavy branch off your back with a grimace. You turn to Vicente, anxiety pinching your features. Your voice is tight with concern as you scan him for injuries.
Lysander: Vivi, are you alright?
Vicente’s small face is streaked with tears; he looks up at you, his eyes wide and frightened. He throws his arms around you, his body shaking with sobs.
You wrap your arms around him, soothing him with gentle pats on his back. You keep your tone soft, trying to calm him, though your own heart hammers against your ribs, murmuring reassurances.
Lysander: It’s okay, I’ve got you. We’re safe now, don’t worry.
Vicente leans back suddenly, his eyes fixed on his hands, horror spreading across his face. You follow his gaze and freeze—the sight of blood smearing his palms sends a jolt of fear through you.
Lysander: Vivi, let me see your hands. Are you hurt?
Your voice is urgent, laced with panic as you reach for his hands to inspect them for cuts or bruises. But Vicente pulls away sharply, retreating behind you.
His breaths come in quick, frightened gasps. His voice trembles, panic rising with each word.
Vicente: Lyss, your shirt—it's so red!
You twist around, trying to look at your own back, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach. The reality of the situation begins to dawn on you as you struggle to make sense of the blood.
Vicente's face crumples further, tears streaming down as he lifts your shirt, his fingers trembling.
The sight of blood seems to amplify his fear, and he starts sobbing uncontrollably, his voice choked with emotion.
Vicente: I don't want you to die, I don't want you to die...
His repetition is frantic, each word laced with growing terror. He fumbles with his canteen, pouring water clumsily over what he perceives as your wound.
In a desperate move to help, he strips off his own undershirt, pressing it against your back with shaky hands.
You feel his actions more than the injury itself—there's no pain, just the cool dampness of the water and the pressure of the fabric.
It's strange, this absence of pain, and it registers in your mind as something profoundly odd. Yet, amidst Vicente's palpable fear and the chaos of the moment, you try to reassure him.
Your tone is steady and calm as you attempt to soothe his panic, even as you wrestle with the confusion swirling within you.
Lysander: Vivi, it's okay... I’m okay, see? No pain.
You turn, pulling Vicente back into your arms, trying to steady the fear that shakes both his voice and body.
Your voice is firm, meant to instill some confidence in him, but Vicente's eyes are wide, his gaze fixed on the perceived severity of your condition.
Lysander: Vivi, listen to me, we’re going to see a doctor, okay? They'll make sure everything is fine.
His voice cracks with each word, the terror of losing you etched deeply into his expression.
Vicente: But there’s so much blood, Lyss! People die when they lose too much blood!
You feel a pang of concern—not for yourself, given the odd lack of pain, but for the distress this is causing him.
Lysander: Not everyone who loses blood dies, Vicente. Help me up, we need to find the others.
But Vicente is immovable, his voice laced with a quiet determination.
Vicente: No, we need to find an adult first. They’ll take us to the hospital.
You sigh, recognizing the futility of arguing with him in this state. His concern is palpable, and it shifts something inside you—a mixture of gratitude and frustration.
Lysander: Okay, let’s find an adult then.
As you acquiesce, a part of you is relieved. At least, with an adult, Vicente and the others might feel safer, especially if the earth decides to shake again.
You keep these thoughts to yourself, focusing on leaning on Vicente's support as the two of you prepare to leave the safety of your hiding spot to find help.
You straighten up, preparing to lead the way, but a peculiar sound stops you.
It’s a deep, resonating hum, the kind you’d imagine hearing in a sci-fi show when energy is being gathered right before a massive burst of power is unleashed.
A mix of curiosity and alarm colors your tone as your voice barely rises above the ominous hum.
Lysander: What is that sound?
Vicente's grip on your arm tightens, his eyes wide with fear. His voice trembles, lacking its usual playfulness.
Vicente: It's Godzilla...
Any other day, you would have laughed, the words laced with your usual mischievous humor. But right now, between the earthquake and that unsettling sound, there's no room for laughter.
Your eyes dart around nervously, scanning the surroundings as if expecting a monstrous figure to emerge from the shadows.
Suddenly, without warning, an invisible force lifts you both off the ground. It feels as if the very air around you has come alive, propelling you upwards with astonishing power.
You’re airborne, the sky and treetops spinning into view as panic and surprise overtake you.
Lysander: Vivi!
You crash to the ground, landing harshly on your back. The impact drives the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping.
Despite the jarring fall, there's no pain, only a stark emptiness where you expect agony to bloom.
Lysander: Breathe... just breathe...
Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you roll onto your belly, the world around you swimming into focus as you push through the dizziness clouding your mind.
Desperately, you scan the area for Vicente. Your voice is weak, barely a whisper as you fight the encroaching darkness at the edges of your vision.
Lysander: Vicente? Vivi, where are you?
Shaking your head in an attempt to clear it, you continue your search, determination fueling your fading strength.
Finally, you spot him—Vicente is lying motionless, a small figure sprawled out 16 feet away.
Relief mixed with fresh waves of worry washes over you as you start to crawl towards him, each movement a battle against the darkness threatening to overtake you.
Lysander: Hang on, Vivi. I’m coming.
You inch closer to Vicente, your focus narrowing as you extend a trembling arm toward him.
The distance closes with each painstaking movement, until finally, your fingers brush against his. Your whisper is ragged, driven by the urgent need to ensure he's safe.
Lysander: Just a little further...
Grasping Vicente’s hand firmly, you hold on as if it's the only thing anchoring you in the swirling chaos.
As your grip solidifies, an overwhelming darkness sweeps over you. The words catch in your throat, barely a murmur.
Lysander: No, not now...
Everything fades to black, the last sensation you have is the feel of Vicente’s hand in yours, a lifeline as you succumb to the encroaching shadows.
[transition]
You slowly open your eyes, the surroundings unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.
It takes a moment to register that you're not in your own bed but in a hospital bed, your room transformed into a sterile, white space.
Your heart races, a mix of confusion and lingering fear pulsing through you as the memory of Vicente's motionless body floods back.
Now, one thought consumes you, pushing past the disorientation and the pounding in your chest...
Lysander: I need to find out if Vivi is okay.
You glance to your left and there's Yiannis, your big brother, slumped over in a chair, lost in sleep. As you shift to sit up straighter, an unusual sensation catches your attention.
Puzzled, you lift the edge of your robe only to discover you're wearing a diaper. Confusion and embarrassment flush through you.
Lysander: I’m way too old for this... No way I’m going anywhere like this.
Your mind races with the implications, the childlike garment at odds with your urgent need to find Vicente.
The thought of venturing out, of anyone seeing you in this state, solidifies your resolve to find a solution first.
You start checking your body, noticing various patches and wires connected to it. With a mix of curiosity and annoyance, you begin to peel them off one by one, the sticky residue tugging at your skin.
Each removal brings a small relief, but as you reach for the last patch, which looks different—more intricate and crucial—sirens suddenly blare, jolting the quiet of the room.
That startles both you and Yiannis; he wakes up abruptly, confusion etched on his face.
Lysander: Uh oh.
Almost instinctively, you leap from the bed, diving just in time to slide under it as the door bursts open and people rush into the room.
From your new vantage point, you hear the shuffle of feet and the murmuring of voices, the urgency in their tones clear.
Your position under the bed feels both ridiculous and necessary as you wait for the intruders to leave or discover your hiding spot.
Tension lingers in the air as footsteps shuffle around the room. You hear someone's voice, the tone sharp with urgency.
Person: Mister Laskaris, where's Lysander?
Yiannis pauses, his voice flat as he responds, his words floating to your hidden spot under the bed.
Yiannis: I don’t know.
The room begins to empty, the sound of footsteps and voices receding. You wait for a beat, gauging the silence, about to check if it’s safe to emerge.
Just then, Yiannis’s voice, tinged with amusement, reaches you, cutting through the quiet.
Yiannis: What are you doing under the bed?
As you begin to crawl out from under the bed, your voice carries a mix of concern and confusion.
Lysander: I need to find Vivi. How did you know I was under there?
From your position, you can't see Yiannis, but his voice comes through clearly, tinged with amusement.
Yiannis: You weren’t as fast or as discreet as you thought.
As you steady yourself with your hands on the bed, you cautiously lift just half of your head above the edge to peer at Yiannis.
Your eyes widen in surprise; though his cheeks are damp with tears, there's a big smile on his face—a sight that tugs at your heart with a mix of relief and concern.
Yiannis, still smiling, continues to speak, his voice a mix of amusement.
Yiannis: You should have hidden before taking that patch off.
Curiosity and concern knit your brows together as you watch the tears mingle with the smile on Yiannis's face.
Lysander: Why are you crying?
In response, Yiannis motions for you to come closer. You move toward him, the uncertainty clear in your hesitant steps.
When you reach him, he gently lifts you onto his lap and envelops you in a tight hug, his warmth and the steady beat of his heart somewhat grounding.
Yiannis, his voice soft but filled with emotion, begins to explain, the relief evident in his tone as he holds you close.
Yiannis: It’s been a little more than a month since you were in a coma. You're lucky you didn’t hurt yourself getting out of bed. These patches you found—they’re for people in comas.
Yiannis: They help keep the muscles from weakening so you can walk as soon as you wake up, no rehab needed unless there's another injury.
His words sink in slowly, mixing with the residual confusion and the stark realization of how much time has passed and how close you came to never waking up.
The revelation that you were in a coma for over a month hits you with unexpected force, overwhelming the strange calm that had settled over you.
Suddenly, the events of the earthquake—the fear, your bleeding back, the bewildering sensation of being hurled through the air—crash back into your consciousness.
Your body begins to shake as these memories flood in, each more vivid and terrifying than the last.
You bury your face in Yiannis’s chest, seeking comfort in the familiar scent and presence of your brother.
Tears spill freely, each one a release of the pent-up emotions you hadn’t even realized you were holding back.
Yiannis, sensing the depth of your turmoil, wraps his arms tighter around you, his hand soothingly rubbing your back.
Yiannis: Ta vgále óla éxo, Mikrè. Eínai entáxei na ta afíseis na vgoun. (Let it all out, little one. It’s okay to let it out.)
His voice is a soft murmur, full of warmth and understanding.
The gentle rhythm of his hand on your back helps ground you as you navigate through the storm of emotions unleashed by his words and your own jumbled memories.
As the emotional storm begins to subside, a new wave of panic surges within you. The initial reason for your desperate awakening pushes through the fog of your recent turmoil.
Your voice is frantic, edged with urgency as you clutch at Yiannis's arm.
Lysander: Aderfós(bro), where's Vivi? Is he okay? Is he hurt?
Before you can gather your thoughts further, Yiannis opens his mouth to respond, but he's suddenly cut off. The door to your room swings open abruptly.
People clad in white coats step in, their presence stern and official. Their entrance pauses the conversation, shifting the atmosphere from one of emotional relief to clinical briskness.
Anxiety ripples through you as the medical team enters, each member clad in a pristine white coat that somehow seems to heighten the tension in the room.
You feel a momentary relief when they simply announce their need to examine you, their tones professional but not overly stern.
Yiannis places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his expression calm.
Yiannis: Take a deep breath, Mikrè(little one). Let them do their check-up, and we'll sort everything out about Vicente afterwards, okay?
Reluctantly, you nod, easing back onto the hospital bed with a mix of resignation and impatience.
The examination begins, and it feels invasive—probes, pokes, and pricks that remind you of a laboratory experiment.
You grit your teeth, enduring the discomfort while your mind races with thoughts of Vicente.
Finally, the medical team finishes their examination and exits the room, leaving a palpable silence behind. Yiannis watches them go, then turns to you, his face serious.
Yiannis: Okay, so, here’s what happened...
His voice trails off as the door clicks shut, leaving his words hanging in the air.
End of intro.
ns 15.158.61.23da2
