7 Hospital 2

November 4, 2001

At the local hospital, where Peter was still staying, to his great chagrin, things were going on as usual. Crowds of sick people, some after surgery, and some after a seizure or loss of consciousness. Adults visit their children, relatives or just friends. The nurses are hurriedly running from side to side, from ward to ward, trying to please everyone, waiting for the end of their shift, which was supposed to end at exactly 8 am. It was still dark outside, and the rays of light were just beginning to come out of the horizon, illuminating the empty and darkened houses and streets.

In general, this day was like any other, especially for the hospital staff, but not for the boy who is in one of the wards on the fifth floor.

—So, one more try," Peter, who was in his room, said, shaking his neck.

Bouncing on the spot and shifting from one foot to the other, he looked at the clock hanging over the doorway with the determination inherent in people who are ready to perform the greatest feat in their lives. The time was half past seven, which meant for Peter only that breakfast in the local dining room, located under the first floor of the hospital, should have already begun, but he safely overslept its beginning.

Continuing to shift from one foot to the other, Peter tried to straighten his disheveled silver hair, which stubbornly refused to be styled. He didn't have time for combing, at 7:40 in the morning, angry and tired after a long night shift, the nurses began to disperse the crowd of hungry patients back to their wards, wanting to get out of here to their warm bed as soon as possible.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, taking in as much air as possible, and then exhaled it back. The whole world in front of his eyes flickered again and was instantly covered with bluish-silver energy, just like then, on the night of his mother's murder.

Peter ran out of the room through the doorway, glancing along the way at the terribly stripped door with broken door hinges. He ran to the stairwell, and without restraining his emotions began to scream in ecstasy. Emotions for him were indescribable, floors replaced each other in an instant. Going down the stairs to the floor below, he could not afford not to run around it completely in order to return to the stairs again and do the same with the floor below. And so it was right up to the moment when he reached the dining room.

Already sitting at the table, and as fast as possible with the speed of usual, he devoured his breakfast. As usual, liquid, tasteless porridge. Sometimes it seemed to Peter that the foam located on top of this liquid was the worst thing he had seen in food. But people here used this soup from time to time, because the desire not to stay hungry overcame all disgust. Some people could afford to buy normal food in the same dining room, but Peter did not have money, to his great regret.

Today's attempt to run and use his powers is not the first attempt over the past week. As soon as his doctor allowed him to move freely around the hospital, leaving the ward, Peter began to test the boundaries and learn his strength. The old vision that he was just part of some movie franchise still came back to him with skepticism, but he had already resigned himself. In his mind, it is far from a fact that his personal life will be part of some movie or TV series. After all, it is far from a fact whether events will happen in this world that were in the movies. Maybe it's just a parallel universe where everything is surprisingly similar to the movies? Peter was constantly visited by similar thoughts: sometimes when he was in the bathroom, sometimes before going to bed.

His power is an amazing gift. Super-speed allowed him to accelerate to unprecedented speeds. Five minutes ago he was in his room, and it took him no more than five seconds to run a huge distance and come down here. He was pleased with himself, today was the first successful attempt to use his abilities. It was the first time he'd felt this way since the night the force had awakened. As he went down, running around each floor along the way, he remembered everything he saw on the way. And the people he met seemed to freeze in place. It seemed a little strange to Peter. Several times he stopped and did not run, but for some reason unknown to him, people also continued to stand still. His super-speed didn't stop working even when he was at rest.

Peter stuffed a spoon with the last part of his porridge into his mouth, and got up from his seat and trudged to take his dishes to a special table. Along the way, he looked only ahead with a hazy gaze, lost in his thoughts. And are his powers super-fast, or is there something more complicated here? He didn't know why his strength hadn't disappeared when he stopped and looked at the people on the way. He spent about a minute on these actions. But even so, taking into account the entire time interval that he spent on the descent here, less than ten seconds have passed. And it seemed strange to him that he perfectly remembered everything he saw on the way, because during the high-speed run, objects and rooms replaced each other with incredible speed.

Thoughts about the possibilities of his powers have been settling more and more firmly in his head all this week for every minute. When he was lying on his bed, with multiple ruptured ligaments, according to doctors, these thoughts did not visit him so often. Then he just didn't know anything about his abilities, almost nothing, except that he can run fast, and he didn't have the opportunity to experiment.

After all, he came here to the hospital after the very night of his mother's murder. On the same day, his abilities were awakened. Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose, realizing that all the injuries he was here with were the result of using his powers. The silver-haired guy headed back to his room, continuing his thoughts along the way. He kept thinking that since after almost a week of mastering his super-speed or perhaps stopping or slowing down time, he had no injuries and nothing hurt anything, then perhaps the awakening of his powers was to blame for everything then. After all, his body might not be ready for loads of this level.

And the headache then was explained by the same. His thinking, like himself, became accelerated and the shock that he first experienced while using the force caused a headache. But really, he began to think much faster than before, and while running, he perfectly remembers everything he saw.

Approaching the entrance to his room, he carefully opened the door, looking uncertainly at the broken hinges. Once, experimenting, he tried to push the door at high speed when he ran out of the room. The result was that the door almost flew off from its place to the opposite wall.

Then Peter had to explain himself to the doctors for a long time, who were shocked by the problems with the door. At the very beginning, he did not find a better way out than to run away from the scene of the crime, and later returning and already talking to Mr. Garison to say that he was in the toilet, because he does not know anything.

Entering the room, he looked at his watch. He still had plenty of time before lunch. And later his aunt was supposed to come for him. He had never seen this woman in person, and as far as he knew, his mother did not particularly keep in touch with her. All he knew about her was her appearance in her teenage years from some photos in her mom's album.

Sighing wearily, he lay down on the couch and groped for the remote control nearby, turned on the TV. There was going to be a new news release soon. After lying in this way for a couple of dozen minutes and listening to all the latest news, he rose to his feet with a deep sigh, and once again looked at his watch. There was still plenty of time before the appearance of his lost relatives, and therefore, without reluctance, he used his super-speed again and ran out of the hospital.