Julian jolted awake with a scream.His body arched off the bed as if still trying to escape the knife. His lungs refused to function properly, dragging in short, ragged breaths that only made the room spin faster. His chest heaved. His hands cwed at his side, searching—expecting—blood, a bde, something. But his fingers met only fabric. Clean. Dry. Soft.

  He couldn’t breathe

  His vision was a haze of light and color, shapes smearing together like a painting underwater. Voices erupted somewhere nearby—urgent, loud, distant.

  “Shit, he’s awake!”

  “He’s going into shock—get the sedative!”

  “I told you the neural wash was incomplete!”

  Julian gasped and choked, his throat tight, burning. Every sound was too loud, every breath too shallow. His body trembled violently. He tried to move, to run, but his limbs felt like they were filled with cement. The world kept slipping sideways. A white ceiling loomed above him. The smell of antiseptic burned his nose.

  “Hold him down!”

  Blurry silhouettes loomed over him—hands, faces, eyes—too close.

  “Julian! Just stay calm; you’re okay—!”

  He wasn't okay.

  He was dying. He had died.

  The panic wrapped around his chest like a vice. His heart pounded in his ears, louder than the yelling, louder than anything. He couldn't tell if he was screaming or if it was all in his head.

  Then something cold touched his arm.

  A hiss of compressed air.

  Then—darkness, creeping in again like ink in water.

  Julian’s thoughts scattered like shattered gss, and his body fell still....

  Darkness.

  But not empty. Not peaceful.

  It swirled.

  Julian floated in it, half-asleep, half-aware. It was cold and muffled, but something throbbed just under the surface — a pulse of memory, an ache of someone else’s pain crawling into his bones.

  A voice, feminine and soft, echoed like it came through water.

  “You’re such a sweet thing… You don’t need to be scared, okay?”

  His chest tightened.

  The words didn’t match the feeling behind them. The voice was syrupy — too sweet. Off. His breathing picked up in the dream. His vision, still unfocused, caught shifting shapes. A streetlight. A brick alley wall. A narrow path. The world around him rippled like heatwaves on concrete.

  His legs were moving, but not by choice. They were sluggish, stumbling. His body felt heavy. Wrong. Warmth bloomed in his chest and under his skin, a heat that didn't belong. His shirt clung to his back with sweat, his thoughts swimming in honey-thick confusion.

  “Just rex… It’s okay now. Let me take care of you.”

  Another pulse of fear shot through him, foreign and overwhelming.

  He saw her again — her figure barely visible in the blur. An older woman with bright eyes, standing too close. Too calm. Her hand was on his arm, leading him somewhere he didn’t want to go. No — where this body hadn’t wanted to go.

  He wanted to stop walking, to shout, to push her away — but he couldn’t. The memory moved on without his consent.

  His back hit the cold ground. Rough concrete. A metallic cng as something fell beside him. Her face hovered above, smiling like everything was normal.

  “Shhh. Just look at me. You're safe now.”

  Safe.

  The word echoed in his skull like a cruel joke.

  Her hands moved, slowly touching his chest as she whispered that everything was going to be okay— and suddenly, everything cracked like a dropped mirror.

  The memory shattered.

  Julian jolted awake again.

  A sharp gasp tore from his throat as he bolted upright, his hands cwing at the hospital bnket tangled around him. His heart thundered like it was trying to escape his chest. Sweat clung to his skin.

  He blinked, wild-eyed. White walls. The faint beep of machines. Sterile light.

  It wasn’t the alley.

  It wasn’t her.

  He didn’t know who she was.

  He didn’t know why he’d just seen that.

  His breathing was uneven, shallow — not from pain, but from the panic coiled in his gut.

  “W-What was that...?”

  His voice cracked. He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to ground himself, but the scene — that voice, that alley, that pressure — clung to him like static.

  And yet... it hadn’t felt like a dream.

  Not exactly.

  Julian didn’t know it yet, but what he saw wasn’t imagination. It was a memory. A remnant of the body he now inhabited — and the nightmare it had endured.

  The harsh light above him stung his eyes, too bright after what felt like an eternity of darkness. He squinted, trying to adjust, but it only made his head throb. His vision cleared slowly, though the world around him was still disorienting, the sterile, clinical feel of the room pressing in on him from all sides. He could hear the rhythmic beeping of a machine, the soft hum of equipment, and the faint rustle of fabric, but it all felt distant, like a dream he was struggling to wake from.

  Then, the door to the room creaked open.

  A man walked in, his steps steady and calm. He was tall with sharp, angur features and dark hair that was a bit tousled, as though he’d been busy. Julian’s eyes fixed on him, trying to make sense of the person in front of him, but everything felt...wrong. There was a familiar weight to the room, a quiet kind of urgency that hung in the air.

  The doctor didn’t look startled by Julian’s sudden wakefulness. Instead, he approached the bed with purpose, looking down at him with a measured concern in his eyes. He was wearing a crisp white coat, and the stethoscope around his neck gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

  He took a step closer, offering Julian a kind smile, though it was tempered with exhaustion. “Hey, hey... It's okay. You’re safe now.”

  Julian’s heartbeat raced erratically; his breath shallow as he gnced at the beeping machines. His panic hadn’t fully subsided, and his throat felt tight. “W-what happened...?” His voice was hoarse, his lips dry. He tried to push himself up, but his body felt weak, heavy.

  The doctor’s hands moved quickly, reassuringly, to adjust the monitors. “You’ve been through quite a bit, Julian,” he said gently, still avoiding any further expnation for the moment as he checked his vitals. “We had to sedate you to keep your heart rate steady. You’ve been under a lot of stress.”

  Julian furrowed his brow, confusion clouding his thoughts. “Sedate me? Why... what happened to me? Where am I?”

  The doctor’s eyes softened, the sympathy in his expression evident. He paused, giving Julian a moment to catch his breath before answering. “You’re in the hospital,” he said slowly, his voice calm and soothing. “You’re safe. Do you remember anything about what happened before? About what brought you here?”

  Julian’s mind raced, trying to grasp at the fragments of memories floating in his mind — the alley, the woman, the panic. But it was all foggy, slipping through his fingers like sand. He swallowed, trying to force the words out. “I... I don’t remember much. I was... I was scared.”

  The doctor nodded, his face calm but his eyes betraying a depth of concern. “That’s understandable. You’ve been through a traumatic experience. We’ll go over everything when you're ready, but for now, I need to make sure your body is recovering properly.”

  Julian's hands trembled as he tried to shift himself on the bed. “I feel... weak,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, more uncertain.

  The doctor gave him a reassuring smile, his voice soft and steady. “That’s normal, Julian. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s going to take time to regain your strength. Your body’s been under a lot of stress, and it needs rest to heal.”

  He checked the monitors again, tapping a few buttons and making sure everything was stable. “How do you feel right now? Any pain, discomfort?”

  Julian hesitated, feeling the soreness in his limbs, the tightness in his chest. He couldn’t quite pinpoint where the pain came from, but it was there, dull and persistent. “A little sore... everywhere. My head hurts too.”

  The doctor nodded, jotting down some notes on a clipboard. “That’s to be expected. You were sedated for a while, and your body’s adjusting. I’m going to keep an eye on your vitals, but it’s all looking good so far.” He paused for a moment, his expression softening as he looked at Julian. “How’s your breathing? Any trouble there?”

  Julian took a deep breath, testing it. “It’s okay... just feels a little tight.”

  “That’s normal too,” the doctor reassured him, his voice filled with empathy. “You’ve been through some serious stress, so your body’s taking its time to recover. But you’re safe now, and you’re going to get better. Just take it slow.”

  Julian’s mind swirled with more questions, but the exhaustion was creeping back in. The crity he had when he first woke up was quickly fading again, repced by the weariness that settled deep in his bones.

  He wanted to ask more, to demand answers, but the words felt like they were caught in his throat. Instead, he let out a shaky sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, just to rest.

  The doctor watched him, his face full of concern, but his voice remained calm. “You’re doing great, Julian. Rest now. I’ll be here to monitor you, and we’ll get through this together.”

  As Julian’s eyelids grew heavier, the doctor gently adjusted the IV once more, ensuring that everything was still in order.

  “You’re in good hands,” he whispered, before stepping back to give Julian some space to recover. The beeping of the monitors continued, steady and rhythmic, like a heartbeat — a reassurance that Julian was still here, still breathing, and that everything would slowly be okay.

  Doctor (Ramsay)'s POV

  The door to the small consultation room was closed behind him, leaving the quiet hum of the hospital in the background. Doctor Ramsay stood opposite Julian's parents, both looking worn and drained. Veronica, Julian's mother, was calm, her hands folded neatly in her p. Her brown-blue eyes locked onto him, the composure in her expression betraying the worry that had undoubtedly been gnawing at her since they’d received the call.

  Leo, Julian's father, stood near the window, his body stiff and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His blonde hair was disheveled, and there were dark circles under his brown eyes, as if the weight of the st few days had drained the life from him. He didn’t sit, didn’t make any effort to rex. His eyes never left the doctor, wide and filled with concern, but there was something else too—tension, barely contained.

  "I’m afraid there are still a few things we need to monitor," Doctor Ramsay began, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. His gaze flicked between them as he spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Julian’s stable for now, but it’s crucial that we don’t overwhelm him."

  Leo's lips pressed together, jaw tight, and his shoulders seemed to tense even further. His voice, low but firm, broke through the silence. "We want to see him. Now. He’s our son."

  Doctor Ramsay exhaled slowly, meeting Leo’s eyes before looking back at Veronica. The tension between them was palpable. It was clear to Ramsay that Leo's heart was on edge—his need to see Julian, to hold onto the sliver of hope that his son was going to be okay, was consuming him. But Ramsay had seen this before. He knew how important it was to control the pace of recovery.

  "I understand," Doctor Ramsay replied softly, his tone calm, yet firm. "But seeing him right now might be too much. Julian is still disoriented. His body’s only just starting to regain strength. The shock—"

  Veronica’s gaze softened as she regarded her husband. Her posture remained composed, but there was a hint of quiet concern in the way she watched Leo. She opened her mouth, as if to intervene, but Leo’s sharp eyes cut her off. He didn’t want to hear it.

  "He’s our son," Leo repeated, this time with more urgency. "You don’t understand. I have to see him. I need to see for myself."

  Doctor Ramsay met Leo’s gaze, his own eyes conveying the weight of the decision at hand. The father’s body nguage was desperate, and Ramsay could feel the raw tension radiating from him. He wanted to give them reassurance, to let them see their son—but he couldn’t risk further complicating Julian’s fragile state.

  "Leo..." Doctor Ramsay began, his voice measured but carrying a note of empathy. "I know you’re anxious, but Julian’s condition is delicate. I don’t want to take any chances. His recovery is going well, but pushing him too soon could make it harder for him to regain full strength." He paused, allowing the words to sink in. "I’m asking for a little more patience. For his sake."

  Leo’s face twisted with frustration, the strain in his eyes deepening. He clenched his fists, his breathing shallow. The weight of not being able to protect his son was breaking him from the inside out.

  Veronica’s gaze never wavered. She reached out, pcing a hand on her husband’s arm, her touch steadying him. Her voice, though calm, carried a gentle firmness as she spoke. "Leo, let’s listen to the doctor. Julian’s healing, and we need to give him time."

  Leo looked at her, his face softening slightly, though his concern remained palpable. His eyes, heavy with tension, flickered toward the door that led to Julian's room.

  Doctor Ramsay saw the father’s internal struggle and took a step back, adjusting his posture. "I’ll have the nurse update you regurly, and if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know. But for now, give Julian a little more time to adjust."

  Leo’s gaze remained fixed on the door. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue further. He simply nodded, his shoulders still tight, the weight of his emotions too much to conceal. He was desperate to see his son, to be there for him, but he understood, in a way, that the doctor’s caution was necessary.

  "I’ll wait," Leo muttered, his voice rough with restrained emotion.

  Doctor Ramsay gave a small nod, his expression softening as he addressed them both. "Thank you. I know this is hard, but we’re doing everything we can. We’ll take care of him."

  Veronica gave a small, reassuring smile, though the worry in her eyes was still evident. "We appreciate that. Just... take good care of him."

  The doctor nodded once more, the weight of the moment hanging in the air. With a final gnce at Julian's parents, Doctor Ramsay turned, walking out of the room, leaving the couple to process the news in silence.

  As he stepped into the hallway, he felt the weight of their concern pressing on him, but he knew that, for now, he had made the right call.

  cuzzies

  Was this too lengthy? I thought it was a chance to show the personalities of his parents, and what hes currently feeling