Open Eyes

Three days.

Seventy-two hours of pretending his life hadn't taken a nosedive into the Twilight Zone. Three days since what should've been a routine walk home turned into a front-row seat to the impossible. Three days of trying—and failing—to convince himself that he hadn't actually seen what he'd seen.

And yet there he was, walking through Mount Sinai's corridors as though nothing had gone wrong.

The strong smell of antiseptic assaulted his nostrils, the lingering aroma of burned coffee coiled in the air, and a distant argument about someone stealing another doctor's yogurt pulsed like white noise.

Yep. Totally normal. If he disregarded the fact that his mind had been replaying That Night like a poorly made film trailer.

Elias found Alex in room 312, a private room on the pediatric floor that had apparently been transformed into a mini convenience store.

The kid was buried under a mountain of get-well balloons, and his bedside table was stacked with enough chips, candy, and soda to put a dentist into early retirement.

The only thing ruining the party was the IV stand by the bed, a silent reminder that Alex had gone dangerously near to never needing snacks again.

"Hey, Alex." Elias leaned against the doorframe and gave a timid smile. "How's the stabbing?"

Alex smiled, still pale but far too enthusiastic for someone who had been stabbed. "Like I got hit by a truck," he added, gesturing wildly toward the junk food stash. "But, hey, at least the food is better than what they offer in school. Almost worth the near-death experience."

Elias snorted. "Glad to see your priorities are in order."

He sat down and tried to ignore the strange knot in his chest. Most of all, it was relief that Alex was alive. Talking. Joking. But there was also the looming weight of everything else.

"The nurses say you're recovering fast." He maintained a casual demeanor, as if they had not seen each other in an alley filled with blood, panic, and a glowing dude with healing hands.

"Yeah, well," Alex shrugged, then grimaced as he remembered his knife wound. "It turns out that getting skewered hurts. Who knew? But, hey, I am still here, right? All thanks to you, Doc."

Elias shifted in his chair, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just doing my job," he mumbled.

He should have said more. Should have clarified. Should've hinted at the magical healing, and reality-is-now-broken condition.

But Alex seemed fine. Normal. No lingering signs of trauma or existential crisis. Maybe Elias had imagined the whole thing.

"So, uh, about that night…" Alex's tone became more serious, as his fingers casually picked at a loose thread on his hospital blanket. "I actually don't recall much. A blur. There was a lot of discomfort. Then you." He squinted, as if he were attempting to pluck shards from a dream. "You showed up unexpectedly. Then... things got kinda fuzzy, like I was in and out, you know?"

He frowned, rubbing his temple. "Did… did you call the ambulance?"

Elias leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, carefully observing Alex. "Yeah. 911. They dispatched one right away." He paused before deciding to prod, just a little. "You don't remember anything... Weird? anything that felt off?"

Alex gave him a blank expression. "Besides getting shanked in an alley?" He gave a dry chuckle and winced, his hand shooting to one side. "Yeah, no, Doc. It's just you. And a lot of 'Oh God, I'm Dying' vibes."

Elias sighed, his shoulders loosening before he realized they were stiff. Alex couldn't recall. Was that a good thing? Probably. It rescued him from the whole "magic exists" argument, which he have no idea how to explain.

"Right... That's good," Elias remarked with a smile. "Less trauma for you to unpack in therapy." He clasped his hands together. "So, when's your grand escape?"

"Couple more days, they say," Alex complained. "And not too soon. I'm going crazy in here. My mother is also on her way, and she is going to nag me like crazy. It's gonna be brutal."

Elias snorted. "A mother's love is a powerful thing," he added, smirking. "Even if it comes with severe side effects, like excessive worrying and unsolicited life lectures."

"Yeah, yeah." Alex waved his hand before grabbing a bag of chips from his stockpile. "At least I got these out of it."

Elias looked over the snack stash. "Perks of being a tragic victim, huh?"

Alex smirked. "Oh, absolutely. Though, I'd trade all the junk food in the world for a decent pizza right now."

Elias tapped a contemplative finger against his chin. "Hm. What if I knew someone who could smuggle a slice past enemy lines?"

Alex gasped. Actually gasped. "You'd do that?"

Elias shrugged. "Don't get used to it. I'm a doctor, not a pizza mule."

They talked about everything—Alex's school, his desire of becoming a game developer (despite his own admission that he is terrible at coding), his favorite horror films—anything to avoid the elephant in the room. Or, more accurately, the supernatural alleyway stab-fest in the room.

Elias listened, nodding and laughing in the right places, but the undercurrent of discomfort remained. The name Leo hung in the back of his mind like a tenacious headache, along with the creeping realization that his life had officially deviated from the sensible road.

As the hospital intercom crackled, signaling the end of visiting hours, Elias pushed himself up, sighing. "Okay, Alex. I should let you relax before the nurses start giving me the suffer-the-consequences look.

Alex smirked and shifted under his cover. "Thank's for stopping by, Doc. Seriously. I'd be dead if not for you."

Elias opened his mouth to brush it off—just doing my job—but the words remained in his throat.

Instead, he just nodded. "Try not to get stabbed again, yeah? It's bad for your health."

He was almost to the door when Alex's voice stopped him.

"Hey, Doc?"

His tone had changed now: hesitant, searching.

Elias turned, hand still on the doorknob. "Yeah?"

Alex hesitated, then lowered his voice. "That guy. The one who… you know."

Elias's fingers tightened around the metal. Damn it. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation.

Alex swallowed. "Did you ever find him?"

Elias exhaled through his nose. He could lie. He probably should lie. But looking at Alex—battered, stitched up, but still sharp—he knew it wouldn't work.

"No," he finally replied. "He got away."

Alex focused on his hands. "Yeah. I thought so." He didn't express surprise. "I don't remember much, but…" His face furrowed, as if he were attempting to bring a half-forgotten nightmare to mind. "I recall the way he moved. He was fast. Too fast. Like—" He shuddered. "Like he wasn't even human."

A chill crawled up Elias' spine. Images flickered through his mind—the crimson flash of eyes, the unnatural speed, the thing that man had become. Then Leo's words: It's starting.

Alex met his eyes, his words softer now. "You don't think he'll come back, do you?"

Elias forced a breath, suppressing the instinct to offer something soothing. To be honest, he had no idea. But his gut told him that what happened in that alley wasn't a one-time occurrence.

He opened the door, looking back at Alex. "I have a very strong feeling," he murmured, "that my life isn't allowed to be that easy."

Alex snorted. "That's a terrible answer."

Elias sighed. "Yeah, well. Welcome to my life."

Elias left Alex's room, but the teen's words lingered to him like a foul hospital odor. Inhumanly fast. It wasn't just the statement; it was how Alex said it, as if he was convincing himself he hadn't dreamt it.

He needed a distraction.

He saw vending machine down the corridor, its neon glow giving the illusion of normalcy in the form of overpriced sugar.

Elias pulled some money from his wallet, inserted it into the slot, and clicked the button for a drink. The machine whirred to life, stopped as if deciding whether or not to comply, and spit out the can with a powerful thump.

As he reached for his drink, a flicker of movements on the nearby television drew his attention. The hospital had it permanently tuned to the news—probably to remind patients that yes, things could always be worse.

The screen cycled through clips of protests, thick crowds shoving against riot shields. Smoke-filled streets. Cars overturned.

The headline read: Trouble Brewing in Europe as Tensions Rise.

The next image showed a riot much closer to home. Civil Unrest Spreads Across the Country.

Elias took a sip of his cola and felt the carbonation burn his throat as he watched television.

This was hardly your typical doom and gloom news cycle. This felt... odd. Amplified. As if someone had turned up the world's tension dial to eleven and broke the knob clean off.

He remembered what Nurse Jenny had said earlier that week: Everyone is walking around like a lit fuse.

The news cut to a man hurling a traffic cone through a storefront window in a shaky video. People were shouting, fists were flying, and cops were fighting to maintain order as the camera panned frantically.

Elias let out a harsh sigh. Yep. It's official—that fuse is burning.

He took another sip of his soda, but the delicious fizz did little to soothe his rising thirst for answers. He took out his phone, his fingers hovering over the browser icon. Was he actually going to do this again? Dive back to the internet rabbit hole of the bizarre and unexplained?

Screw it.

Tapping the screen, he typed: unexplained phenomena red eyes.

The search results rushed in right away—a confusing mix of medical explanations, horror stories about demonic possession, and, strangely, a fanfiction forum debating whether vampires should have luminous eyes or simply highly intense staring problems.

He glanced over an item about ocular albinism.

He skipped a Reddit topic titled "My Cat's Eyes Turned Red at 3 AM—Help" (and wished that guy well).

And disregarded a viral video offering REAL PROOF of otherworldly beings, which, judging by the thumbnail, was simply a man in a ski mask dashing past a gas station security camera.

With a sigh, he refined his search: unexplained phenomena unnatural speed.

This resulted in a slightly less ludicrous mix—stories of athletes recording unbelievable sprint times, urban legends about individuals outrunning vehicles (sure, buddy), and the standard collection of grainy, slow-motion video that cleverly cut away just before anything remotely convincing happened.

He leaned against the wall, massaging his brow. It was insane. He practiced surgery. He dealt in facts, in things that could be confirmed, measured, and examined under a microscope. And yet—

His fingers tightened around his phone.

And yet, he had seen it himself.

'Open your eyes, Elias. Open your mind.'

Leo's words came back to him, smug and irritating.

Was he being overly closed-minded? Was his scientific expertise preventing him from seeing the reality that was there in front of him? A truth that was, admittedly, completely absurd. He chuckled to himself.

This was nuts. He was a famous surgeon, not an online detective looking for urban legends!

But… what if?

Elias groaned and ruffled his hair, as if shaking his head hard enough would dislodge the stupid thoughts that were growing inside. He needed to think about this like a proper, sensible human being.

He took another sip of his soda, the artificial spike of caffeine providing some clarity, if not solutions. Okay, focus.

Fact: He had witnessed something impossible in that alley.

Fact: Leo, glowing like a one-man Broadway light show, had healed Alex.

Fact: A girl he met in the park with electrifying blue eyes appeared in his dream, and for some reason, his brain determined she was essential.

Fact: Everything seemed weird. The world. The people. The air itself was like an orchestra warming up for a performance he couldn't hear yet.

Elias sighed, his gaze returning to the television screen. The same repetitive video of protests, buildings burning, and people yelling in the street. Something was stirring—something significant—and it wasn't just his paranoia.

Then there was that final, cryptic message from Dream Girl:

Find the others.

Great. The others. Extremely helpful. Who were they? Where should he start? Did she believe he possessed a supernatural directory for Suspiciously Glowy People?

His eyes returned to the vending machine, as if the rows of potato chips and canned drinks had the key to life's greatest secrets.

Silence.

He sighed. Figures.

Elias let out a long, suffering sigh, as if to say, "I'm too old for this nonsense," despite the fact that he was barely over thirty.

He was getting nowhere standing here, debating philosophy with a vending machine. He needed a plan. A lead. Preferably one that did not include perusing through conspiracy forums at 3 a.m.

And maybe—just maybe—the answer rested with the one person who had kickstarted the whole supernatural headache.

Leo.

Leo had promised answers. 'Next time, I will tell you everything.'

Well, it was "next time," and Elias had had enough of waiting. He was ready—reluctantly, begrudgingly, and certainly against his better judgment—to accept that the world might be a bit more unhinged than he had anticipated.

One problem.

How did you track down a guy who appeared out of nowhere, glowed like a human nightlight, and then vanished just as fast?

That nagging question followed Elias throughout his shift. The hospital's normal hum—beeping monitors, clipped voices over the intercom, and steady shuffle of nurses and doctors—felt faraway.

It was as if he was hearing it through static. Even scrubbing in for surgery, which normally cleared his mind, couldn't shake the impression that he was simply going through the motions.

By the time he stepped outside into the dusky evening air, he had already made up his mind.

If I were a cryptic, glowing mystery man with a penchant for dramatic exits, where would I be?

There was only one place to start. The park where he last saw him.

It was a longshot. A very long shot. The kind of strategy that would be appropriate for a low-budget detective show, right before the protagonist spent an hour waiting on a park bench for nothing to happen.

Still. It was the only lead he had.

And if Leo did show up?

Well, Elias had some questions. And this time, he wasn't going to let the guy get away without some darn decent answers.