Chapter 0005

—Klein.

It felt like I was dreaming, but the voices around me were loud and clear, though they made no sense.

"I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ve never seen anything like this. Your son isn’t breathing, and we can’t feel any pulse. There’s no way to know if he’s alive or has a chance of survival. I know this is hard, but… there’s nothing we can do. We can only do the proclamation...Your son is dead."

Dead?

That word echoed in the darkness around me, heavy and final. I heard my mother’s voice rise sharply, shaking with disbelief and desperation.

"What do you mean dead? He can’t be!"

I wanted to answer, to tell her I wasn’t gone, but I couldn’t. Everything was dark. I couldn’t move, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel. Just... stiff.

Wasn’t it strange? How could I be dead if I could hear them?

I’m no science expert, but isn’t this the part of death where my brain has four minutes before it finally shuts down?

No. Please, no.

Simon owes me a couple of bucks—me dying might actually make him feel like he won.

The silence pressed closer, suffocating. I grasped at memories of the man in the woods. Something was there, just out of reach.

The dagger.

I remembered the sharp pain. A stabbing so deep I thought it would tear my soul apart.

"Was it a dream? Or was it real? Am I dead because of it?"

The voices kept drifting around me, pulling me back to their world. I felt something soft graze my face, like fabric brushing against me. Someone was covering me.

"No… no! Stop... I'm not dead."

My mind screamed, but I still felt nothing... If I had no pulse, how could I still feel? If my heart wasn’t beating, how could I hear? My mother had always told me I was special, different from others. My heartbeat had never been normal. It often disappeared entirely. But I was still alive. Wasn’t I?.

The moment the fabric touched my face, my eyes snapped open.

There was light. It burned into me like a thousand suns. I heard a loud thud as something fell. My body jerked upright, stiff like a puppet pulled by strings. My chest heaved, gasping for breath that I didn’t need.

Pain shot through my chest, more intense than anything I’d ever felt. I clutched at it instinctively, as if trying to hold the pain in place, to keep it from ripping me apart.

"Klein!"

My mom’s voice was filled with a mix of relief and disbelief. She threw herself at me, wrapping me in a tight embrace as if she could pull me back from the edge of death itself.

"Do you feel pain anywhere? Tell me where it hurts," she said, her voice trembling.

Such a drama queen, this mom of mine.

I felt her tears on my skin. But the pain I felt didn’t stop. It grew stronger, fiercer, burning through every nerve in my body.

I didn’t answer. The pain in my chest was enough of a response. My mind was still spinning, still stuck between what had happened and what was happening now.

"Mom… what time is it?" My voice came out hoarse.

She blinked, confused by the question, her lips parting in silence before my brother answered instead.

"Seven. It’s seven o’clock."

I turned to look at him. Had he been here the whole time? He stared at me, uncertain, but I didn’t have time for questions. This was the first time this was happening to me and I'm sure he needed answers as to why it was.

I swung my legs off the bed, the cold floor sending a shiver through me. Pain flared as I stood, and groaned quietly. My mom moved to steady me, but I shook my head.

"I’m fine," I muttered gently.

She didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t wait for her to argue. I started towards the door.

"Where are you going to?" She asked softly.

I didn’t answer. My body was heavy, my limbs trembling. But I kept moving. Every step was a fight.

The doctor finally spoke. His voice was barely a whisper.

"This… this is impossible. You were dead."

I ignored him.

"Is he okay?" my mother whispered.

I didn’t know if I was okay. I didn’t know what was happening to me, either. Saying nothing, I walked out of the ward completely.

Growing up, looking back at my childhood, I don’t think I was ever truly normal, no matter how much my parents tried to convince me otherwise.

Sure, I lived a life that seemed ordinary enough. But there were cracks in that illusion, moments that didn’t fit. Like the times I fell or scraped my knees. Everyone expected me to cry like every other kid, but I never felt a thing. Pain was a foreign concept to me, a word I heard but never understood.

While others flinched at cuts or bruises, I watched in silence, curious about something I could never experience. My curiosity turned to experiments—I would cut myself all the time, desperately wanting to know what pain felt like. But I never did.

Then came the other oddity...the absence of a heartbeat most times. I once stayed alive for two days without one. I didn’t realize how strange that was until I was older. Mom explained it as part of being "special," something unique about me that made me different. She said it like it was a gift.

But was it really?

The pain of getting fired today—a dull ache I shouldn’t have felt—was just another abnormal thing. I wasn’t supposed to feel hurt; I never did. It was strange, sure, but it didn’t even come close to what happened next.

The stabbing.

The pain was sharp and unforgiving. Real and brutal. It tore through me with a force I never knew existed, burning itself into my mind. And to think it had all happened in a dream.

Imagine if it had been real.

For the first time, I truly understood what pain was.

It was terrifying, something I never want to experience again.

And maybe that was what made me different. Maybe that was why I was special. But special didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like a curse.

I made my way out of the hospital and boarded a cab that took me to my destination. I had no money to pay, but the cab driver seemed to understand, perhaps because of the hospital gown I was still wearing.

I arrived at the forest, the place where I had seen Silvio yesterday. But he wasn’t there.

I didn’t even know why I was here. It was as though I wasn’t myself anymore, like I had lost control of my own body.

"Mr. Alvarez," I called, but there was no response.

I called again, my voice louder this time, ignoring the pain that coursed through me. Still, there was no reply.

Weaker now, my legs trembled beneath me. My breath came in sharp gasps as my vision blurred, but I refused to give in. I turned, and there, like a shadow come to life, stood Mr. Alvarez.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

I should have flinched at the sight of him appearing so suddenly like a ghost, but I didn’t. Instead, I took a step closer. The closer I got, the more the pain in my chest grew, but I kept going.

I groaned, each step a battle. He remained still, watching, silent.

"Why won’t you help me?" I wanted to ask.

I staggered forward until I stood right in front of him. I clenched my fists, swallowing hard against the pain that blurred my vision.

"I need this job. Re-employ me," I whispered, the words barely a breath.

My body gave out, and I felt myself falling into darkness. Before I could hit the ground, he caught me, pulling me close, my neck resting on his shoulder.

"I need this job," I mumbled one last time before the blackness pulled me under.