Emily woke up one morning feeling unusually weak, her breathing heavy and labored. Her body ached all over, and her throat felt like it was on fire. Trying to sit up, she was hit by a wave of dizziness and a coughing fit that forced her back down.

  "Oh man—this really sucks…maybe it will go away if I sleep a bit more?" she thought as a wave of coughs threatened to overwhelm her. However, even as she tried to dismiss the situation, a strange, almost instinctual voice deep within her seemed to caution her.

  A faint, nebulous memory flashed through her mind. Images of lying alone in bed, feeling waves of nausea and pain- it was a strange déjà vu as though she were somehow viewing someone else’s experience of illness. The sense unsettled her, but she was far too weak to dwell on it. Emily relented to this inner voice and accepted that she needed help.

  "Mom," she called out weakly, her voice a hoarse whisper. Even in this state - she was taken aback by how much strain it took to speak. She waited, but there was no response. Panic began to set in as another wave of coughs made her convulse for a brief moment. Summoning all her remaining strength, Emily called out again, louder this time. "Mom…I..HELP!"

  Sarah appeared near instantaneously - at a speed eliciting a chuckle from Emily despite her discomfort. Observing the concern spreading across her mother’s face, Emily surmised that she was probably looking quite unwell. "Emily…hon…what's wrong?” Sarah asked as she placed her hand on Emily’s forehead.

  “Something is wrong—I feel really sick," Emily managed to utter before another violent wave of coughs overtook her. For a brief moment, memories of what seemed to be a pandemic in another time and place flashed through Emily’s mind. Images of masks and quarantine, words like “pandemic” and phrases such as “social distancing,” flickered in her mind. Without batting an eye she unconsciously asked in a daze - "You wouldn’t happen to have a mask... don’t want to infect you…".

  —

  Sarah paused, briefly struck by the unusual concern from such a young child, but quickly refocused on the immediate crisis. "Don’t worry about that now," she reassured, her tone soothing yet urgent, as she felt the heat from Emily’s forehead. "Just rest - I'm calling your dad."

  Sarah darted to the phone and dialed Thomas, her hands fumbling slightly as she fought to maintain her composure. As a PT, she knew the importance of staying calm, but as a mother, her heart was racing with fear - having never seen her child this sick before. "Thomas, it's Emily…she is very sick…yes - we need you here now’ " she said, her voice unsteady. Thomas, stunned by the gravity in Sarah's voice, excused himself from his practice and rushed home.

  As she waited for Thomas to arrive, Sarah took a deep breath - attempting to steady herself. Observing Emily's symptoms — the high fever, the labored breathing, the deep cough — she feared that it could be a severe respiratory infection. Fighting her own anxiety, she nevertheless tried to keep her voice calm soothing Emily who was clearly frightened. "Try to take slow breaths, Em" Sarah internally praying that this was nothing more than a severe cold. "Your dad will know what to do as soon as he gets here, okay?"

  Thomas arrived and immediately sprinted up the stairs to Emily’s room - seamlessly transitioning into his clinician persona albeit fatherly concern shadowed his moves. He checked and verified Emily's temperature, listened to her labored breathing with his stethoscope, and examined her throat and pupils.

  "Her fever is high - really high, and her lungs don’t sound good. " Thomas declared his calm faltering as he grappled with the reality of his daughter's condition. His brow furrowed with worry, he added "We can’t chance it - this isn’t something we can resolve at home. We need to get her to the emergency room right away."

  —

  Sarah and Thomas quickly bundled Emily into the car and drove to the hospital. Emily faded in and out of consciousness, her reality blurred by the fever-induced delirium. She had vague memories of being carried down the stairs, the car's swaying motion, and feeling her mother hold her close in the backseat. "I’m getting dizzy... I wonder if I can nap for a bit…I’d like that" she thought weakly as breathing became increasingly labored and her eyes slowly closed.

  Emily’s brief sojourn was abruptly interrupted as she awoke to a confusing cacophony of beeps, groans and wails, and the smell of antiseptic. Realizing she was in an ER triggered a momentary spell of anxiety before the world thankfully blurred again. She recollected the nurses moving quickly around her, their actions yet hazy in her delirious state although a blood draw sharply brought her to a spell of alertness.

  "Oh no - not this again…" she murmured as she saw the needle approaching, instinctively leaning into her father for comfort as he consoled and encouraged her. The blood draw stung, and while ordinarily she would have preferred to let her strong feeling be known, she simply felt too exhausted to just sit quietly as she saw her blood collect in the nurse’s vials.

  A pediatrician examined her carefully, but gently, diagnosing her with an especially severe case of pneumonia. Through her daze, Emily heard a few words as the pediatrician conversed with her parents in hushed but urgent sounding tones "This is serious - she needs to be hospitalized for a few days to ensure proper treatment."

  Upon hearing this, Emily jerked upright. An unexpected wave of revulsion, anger, and distrust coursed through her— a visceral aversion to doctors, hospitals, and the medical system itself- as if drawing on memories and experiences that were not quite her own. More memories - of isolation, the fear of not recovering - haunted her mind. However, another part of herself seemed to be trying to put up a wall, as if someone or something were shielding her from those emotions, urging her to trust her family and those around her instead.

  Instinctively, she tried to initially downplay her symptoms. "Just give me some antibiotics and an inhaler and send me home. This ain’t anything special," she murmured feigning strength. Nevertheless, her body betrayed her as she slipped in and out of consciousness more rapidly leaving her increasingly vulnerable and scared.

  The pediatrician raised her eyebrows, casting a puzzled glance at Emily’s parents as if to ask how a child her age knew such terminology. Thomas chuckled, covering smoothly. "She does that," he said, smiling. "I run my own practice—she picks up on shop talk at home…"

  Sarah squeezed Emily’s hand gently "Honey, the nice doctor is right - you need to stay at the hospital to get better. We’ll be here with you the whole time okay?" Thomas nodded, his tone supportive, "I know hospitals aren't fun kiddo - but you’ll get better soon’.

  —

  In the hospital, Emily vaguely remembered being hooked up to IVs and oxygen, changing into hospital clothes and placed on a bed. At first, she was too overcome by fever-induced delirium to notice the oxygen mask snug against her face. It was only as she began breathing easier and that the fog lifted that she felt its presence—cold, constricting, a seemingly alien thing forcing air into her lungs. She reached up in a mix of irritation and tried to pull it away.

  "Easy, Em," Sarah's voice was calm, her hand gently but firmly guiding Emily's back down. "I know you don’t like it but you need this right now to help you breathe..’

  Emily scowled under the mask, irritated at this object seemingly violating her personal space. After a pause, a spark of her usual humor flickered. “So this is why Darth Vader was always angry at the world,” she murmured grumpily, her voice muffled but the tone unmistakable.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Her comment elicited a surprised chuckle from both her parents - a much needed bit of levity. Sarah smiled warmly as she shook her head."I suppose it could get quite annoying," she agreed, playing along.

  Thomas grinned, adding, "Well, let’s just stay on the good side of the Force okay?”

  “It’s the light side of the Force, Dad,” Emily playfully corrected him, drawing more chuckles.

  While this moment of mirth provided a brief respite, it didn’t erase the gravity of Emily's illness as her health continued to fluctuate. Some days, she seemed to improve momentarily, only to relapse into delirium as her fever surged again. In these bouts, strange old memories—fragments from another time and place—surfaced, intermingling with her own thoughts, but their emotions hit her deeply. "I can’t be sick... too much work... all those meetings," she murmured during one such episode, her voice tinged with stress and urgency that seemed unnatural for a child.

  Her words startled her parents. Thomas furrowed his brow. "Meetings? Is she talking about school projects or... maybe a play date?"

  Sarah, gently smoothing Emily's hair, tried to reassure herself as much as her daughter. "Honey, you don’t have any homework right now. Just rest," she whispered, brushing the comment off as delirium-induced rambling.

  —

  One particular night, as the fever raged, Emily slipped deeper into delirium. Visions from another life bled over into her own haunting her —sterile, lonely hospital rooms, seemingly endless nights wracked with pain, begging night and day for relief.

  She saw herself—or perhaps, someone else—strapped to a hospital bed, anxiety spiking as they braced for a biopsy. The cold, sharp press of multiple needles, the anesthesia failing to numb the piercing pain as the needles burrowed deep into the neck. She felt the struggle to stay silent, fearing any scream might cause irreparable damage to the organs nearby, making her feel more paralyzed and trapped than they could have imagined.

  A shadowy figure emerged within the dreams, trying to shield her from these memories. “Emily—these memories are walled off for a reason. You’re not supposed to see them, not supposed to experience this,” the figure urged, its tone filled with a desperation that resonated with her own fear. It worked tirelessly to seal off the memories, playing a frantic game of whack-a-mole as another painful memory surfaced each time it managed to push one down.

  Emily now found herself in a stark room during a nerve block procedure. “We need real-time feedback,” the doctor had explained, his voice concerned but clinical. “I’m sorry, but this will hurt.” She took—or was it he took?—a deep breath, grabbing the bed as the needle sank into flesh. Each agonizing adjustment was felt in vivid clarity, a pain both hers and not hers. She felt tears—somehow both hers and not hers—mingled with frustration and hopelessness.

  Once again, the shadowy figure tried to forcefully turn her away from the memories. “Emily—this is your fever, your delirium! You’re seeing memories you were never meant to experience. Don’t follow them!” it pleaded, its voice breaking as it glanced frantically between her and the torturous memories.

  Even in the midst of the chaos, Emily realized with a jolt that she felt the shadow’s emotions— it too was haunted by reliving these memories alongside her. She also felt something unexpected - the shadow showed a deep seated protectiveness - almost familial in nature - yet also exasperated by its inability to stop her from diving deeper.

  She was thrust into another flashback: walking on a seemingly normal day, surprised that the pain had finally abated. Yet the brief illusion of health shattered as pain explosively shot up from the feet, sending them—her? him?—toppling to the ground, skin bruising and scraping painfully against the pavement.

  Then came the most crushing memory of all—a dimly lit doctor’s office, the air thick with resignation as a grim-faced doctor delivered a life-altering truth. “I’m afraid the condition is incurable,” the doctor said, unable to meet their eyes. “Had we caught this earlier... steroid treatment might have been possible. But now, the best we can do is manage symptoms. I’m sorry.” She felt a soul-shattering weight, a spirit cracking into a million shards, as the life sentence was declared.

  With an unearthly growl, the shadowy figure finally forced an opaque wall between her and the memories, blocking their onslaught at last.

  “I’m sorry, kid…” it said, panting, its voice raw and strained from the effort. “Our merge... it’s unstable. You saw far more than you were ever supposed to. I’ll try to bury them again, but... traces will remain.” The shadow, still pulsing with labored breaths, whispered, 'You need to wake up now... try to forget what you saw…”

  With a monumental effort, it walked toward her and, with a gentle, almost affectionate touch, tapped her on the head.

  In an instant, Emily felt herself falling backward into a void, a flash carrying her away from the memories. She jolted awake, her heart pounding, unsure of what had just happened but left with the lingering aftertaste of relentless medical procedures, prods, and pokes.

  Instinctively, Emily cried as her mind struggled to make sense of the rapidly fading memories - her voice trembling with despair and confusion. “Please don’t leave me alone,” she pleaded. “It doesn’t end—it just doesn’t end. The pain... it always comes back it is so cruel. I get better, I feel I have a chance, and then it strikes again, breaking me a little more each time…”

  "We're right here, Emily. We're not going anywhere," Sarah whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she brushed a hand over Emily's damp forehead. Thomas joined them, his face etched with deep concern, wrapping an arm around his daughter. "Emily, you're safe. We’re here with you," he murmured softly.

  Exhaustion began to pull her back under, and she began slipping back into the comforting embrace of sleep surrounded by her parents. Nevertheless, she felt a strange, heavy aftertaste—a haunting sense that she had glimpsed something she wasn’t supposed to - something deeply personal and private.

  The details had blurred and faded slipping just beyond her grasp but she knew that she had brushed against a deeper part of herself, something secretive, raw and painful - locked and walled away beneath the surface.

  —

  Despite the severity of her illness, Emily slowly began feeling a strange sense of peace. Her condition slowly improved as the treatment took effect. Her family’s presence was a constant source of comfort and as her rational mind took more control, she realized she wasn’t in fact alone or abandoned.

  With each passing day, Emily's recovery accelerated. She regained her physical and mental strength, moving from slow walks to light jogs around the hospital garden under the watchful eyes of her relieved parents. Her appetite returned with a vengeance, and she humorously lamented the quality of hospital food. “Gosh, what I wouldn’t give for ramen,” she murmured absent-mindedly, unconsciously drawing on a memory not quite her own. Her comment drew a curious glance from Thomas. “Ramen? When did you ever taste ramen?” he asked, amused. Realizing her slip, Emily quickly covered, “Oh… I don’t know… maybe Lucy brought some to school once… she’s from California…”

  Eventually, her friends visited, each bringing their unique energy that contributed immensely to her healing. Lucy’s vivaciousness filled the room, lifting spirits with tales of school and her cat, although she had to be eventually reminded to quiet down as Emily's energy reserves waned. Lily's gentle presence brought a heartfelt warmth, her quiet support as comforting as ever. Their visits reminded Emily yet again of the support network she had in this world. In a quiet moment, she almost felt something deeper within her feel soothed - as if appreciating this moment with her.

  The day of discharge finally arrived. Emily gingerly stepped out into the bright sunlight as the hospital doors swung open, feeling the breeze and warmth invigorate her.

  The world outside seemed more vivid, more alive, than she remembered - perhaps a symbol of her renewed hope and gradual recovery.

  Turning back, she looked through the hospital's doors - watching the smiling faces of the doctors and nurses who had effectively become her temporary guardians through this chapter. Their faces, marked by genuine care and excitement at seeing their ward on the mend, reminded her of the compassion that she had experienced during her stay.

  “Thank you all, for everything,” she called out, her voice steady but her eyes damp with grateful tears. As they waved back, Emily felt a flicker—almost like a voice inside her, commenting softly, “Your world is so much kinder than mine was… maybe… it will be different in this universe.” As the voice faded, she felt a strange warmth, an empathy she couldn’t place but which resonated within her deeply.

  As she walked away, supported by her parents, Emily was aware of the reality of her recovery. There was still work to be done, strength to rebuild, follow-up visits, and the dreaded homework to catch up on—but a profound truth anchored her spirits: she would not face it alone. “Not this time” she thought to herself - unsure why - but nevertheless filled with hope.