Phase 05
David's Perspective
"Let us vacate this vicinity," Frans then guides me outside that room.
While traversing, I sense an increasing burden weighing upon my physical form, impeding my locomotion. Ultimately, I succumb to my knees as the sensation of my lower extremities dissipates, and a numbing sensation ascends my corporeal vessel, restricting my respiratory faculties. Frans gazes at me with widened eyes, his vocal utterances rendered inaudible to my ears. Determinedly, I endeavour to elevate my physique despite the absence of corporeal sensation, aided by Frans' assistance. Gradually, the deafness subsides, granting me partial awareness of my surroundings, yet the cacophony of creaking intensifies, evoking the imminent collapse of the edifice.
"What symptoms are you experiencing?" Frans inquires as I halt amidst our hastened progression.
"I— I am bereft of sensation in my lower limbs," I respond, exerting myself to recommence ambulation, as if adrift in weightlessness due to the numbness that permeates my being.
"Such a reaction is to be expected, as I endured a similar occurrence last night. Zhan posited that it was the result of sudden vertigo," he elucidates.
"Pray, enlighten me on the events that transpired during your previous ordeal," I query, consumed by concern.
"Mere vertigo occasioned by a minor tremor," he discloses, perplexing me as I remain unaware of any seismic activity during that time.
"What unfolded during the aforementioned occurrence?"
"A trifling earthquake, perchance you lapsed into unconsciousness when it transpired."
"Beyond experiencing vertigo, have you encountered any additional manifestations?"
"Naught but vertigo, fret not, for my physical constitution remains unimpaired, unlike your own infirm heart," he rejoins.
I surmise that my body's exaggerated response stems from my cardiac condition, as my acquaintance with a higher-ranking individual within the organization enabled my compliance with the health protocols, facilitating my inclusion in this mission.
"You are hemorrhaging excessively," Frans astutely observes, directing my attention to my lower hip, concealed within the tattered fabric of my shirt and coat. It is from that locale that the sanguine fluid emanates, unbeknownst to me due to the numbness permeating my form.
"Tsk! Shall this infliction prove fatal?" I query, seeking assurance.
Once we exit the hallway, Frans judiciously assists me in assuming a seated position upon the floor, situating himself adjacent to me. I tap his shoulder, recognizing his discomposure, as I am similarly afflicted during instances of mental distress.
"Pray tell, whence did you sustain this wound?" He wearily inquires, staunching the blood flow with the utilization of his discarded coat.
"I am oblivious to its origin," I confess honestly.
Awaiting the arrival of the emergency personnel, we maintain our positions. Once they appear, I am conveyed to the Emergency Room for the treatment of my wound, which is promptly cleansed and sutured. Meanwhile, Frans attends to his minor lacerations in a separate area. Amidst this process, I am confounded by the sense of normalcy pervading the surroundings, as if naught were amiss. The individuals within the vicinity proceed with their tasks unaffected, seemingly indifferent to the impending catastrophe. Their composure resembles individuals partaking in leisurely activities amidst the turmoil of a war, perceiving the ensuing chaos as a trifling inconvenience undeserving of their attention.
"You must acclimate yourself to the reality that no matter the severity of the circumstances, it shall not perturb us, for we have long anticipated such occurrences. You, too, must adopt this perspective," the attending physician interjects, extricating me from my ruminations.
"I harbored no expectations regarding the gravity of the situation present herein," I reply.
"Understandably so, for the organization likely chose to withhold pertinent information, apprehensive that knowledge thereof would deter potential participants from engaging in this mission," I remain silent, contemplating the physician's statements.
Upon his departure, I allow my thoughts to wander, finding amusement in the realization that throughout my existence, I have been perpetually subjected to startling revelations. I have seldom experienced the luxury of being forewarned, left to grapple with the resultant shock in solitude. I recollect an occasion from my youth when, at the age of ten, my mother facilitated my attendance of a commemorative ceremony, its purpose unbeknownst to me. Only upon its commencement did I discern that it served to honor the remains of an individual lost at sea—a solemn occasion that disclosed the tragic demise of my long-awaited father.
"Are you well, trick-or-treater?" Vincent and Kevin materialize before me, interrupting my introspection.
"Y-yes," I respond to Vincent, assessing their physical well-being, which appears unscathed.
"Have you rectified the predicament?" I inquire.
"Indeed, it was a commonplace occurrence, minor in comparison to the more significant events transpiring within this locale," Kevin replies, as if discussing a disparate subject matter.
"We shall leave you in solitude, until we reconvene on the morrow, Dreamer," they bid farewell, christening me with yet another moniker, prior to their departure.
Concealing my wound from them is an intentional decision, borne out of my desire to accompany them on the forthcoming expedition to obtain the saber. I am cognizant that their knowledge of my affliction would preclude my participation. At times, to confront our fears head-on, we must avert our gaze and dissemble to obtain what we desire. My wound is but a trifling matter, insufficient to impede my ability to dive and perform my duties. I refuse to allow my frail physique to hinder my contribution to this mission, for I am disinclined to squander the time and effort invested in my qualification solely due to the trepidation that presently consumes me.
After an hour spent in the Emergency Room, Frans assists me in returning to my dormitory. While traversing the hallway, a familiar scent assails my olfactory senses—a fragrance reminiscent of traumatic memories. Instinctively, I halt in my tracks, scanning the surroundings in search of its origin.
"What prompts your scrutiny?" Frans inquires, mirroring my actions.
Before I can articulate a response, my gaze alights upon the proprietor of the fragrance, resulting in my paralysis. Fear consumes me as our eyes meet, and I find myself fleeing towards my dormitory, leaving Frans behind. Locking myself within the confines of my room, I collapse upon the floor, my weakened knees unable to support my weight. Gradually, my knees grow feeble, rendering me incapacitated, as the recollection of her, absent from my life for five years, resurfaces, flooding my consciousness with memories long repressed. Minutes pass, and a persistent knocking reverberates through the room, causing me to flinch. Tentatively, I raise myself from the floor, retreating to a corner of my bed, apprehensive that she might be the one behind the door.
"Unknown, ascertain the identity of the individual outside," I implore, the relentless knocking heightening my anxiety.
"It is Frans—" I interrupt Unknown, hastening to open the door upon hearing Frans' name.
However, as the door swings open wide, I am confronted with not only Frans standing before me but also the person I dread the most, who stands beside him, casting a cold gaze in my direction.
"She seeks you. I shall leave you to converse. Zhan awaits me," Frans informs me before departing, despite my futile attempt to grasp his hand to prevent his exit. Instead, it is her grip that ensnares mine, her touch invoking a familiar sense of dread. My tongue becomes entangled, rendering me incapable of calling out to Frans. Fear intensifies as I endure her grip and the chilling stare that mirrors past torment. Avoiding her gaze, I allow myself to be dragged into the confines of my room, where she forcefully presses me against the cold wall. In a state of paralysis, I bear witness to her imposing presence before me. The scent of her perfume engulfs my senses, triggering a flood of memories long suppressed.
"Why have you ventured here?" she questions with a tone as unyielding as stone, my own fear stifling any response.
"Have I not instructed you to stay clear of this mission? Are you so obtuse as to disregard my words?" Tears stream down my cheeks as the pain of her rejection resurfaces, a painful reminder of the suffering I endured due to her actions.
"I— I yearn to comprehend the reason why— why you cast me aside without explanation. Why you vanished because of this mission. Do you grasp the anguish I endured due to your actions? How you treated me?" I manage to utter the words, though each syllable strains against the weight of my fear.
"If anything befalls you here, do not dare to hold me responsible, nor seek solace in me," she declares, her final words echoing in the chamber as she departs.
Though she possesses a propensity for inflicting physical harm and instilling fear, haunting my nights with recurring nightmares borne from her drunken state, I cannot deny the truth that she bore me for nine months and cared for me throughout my existence—alone.
And so, the tumultuous presence of my past resurfaces, intertwining with the uncertainties of my present mission.