Chapter 4: Why Am I Back Here Again

A cold room with padded white walls… a psychiatric hospital.I didn't understand why the court sentenced me to stay here for six months under the excuse of "recovery" and "regaining the ability to walk."But the strange part? They put me among what they call "mentally ill patients."

As for Elias, he was sentenced to forty years in prison. He's twenty-seven… he'll rot in there. Good.

I smiled faintly, staring at the white ceiling of my room."Maybe this is the first time fate has truly smiled at me… even if it's a crazy smile."

A knock on the door.A soft creak.It opened.

The same doctor who saved my life earlier walked in.He looked tired, but a calm smile lit his face as he said:"Glad to see you back safe."

I gave him a sheepish smile."I guess... yeah."

He stepped closer, looked straight into my eyes with a warm expression, and spoke gently:"Don't be surprised… what you're feeling now — shock, excitement, joy, victory — it's all natural after what you've been through."

I asked, my voice tinged with hesitation and a hint of distrust:"But... aren't you afraid of me like the others? You do realize I'm in here under accusations of mental illness and attempted murder, right?"

That's exactly what I was thinking. It's the only logical explanation for why I'm here.

The doctor sighed deeply, his voice filled with quiet pride:"Because I'm a doctor, Hakim. My job is to stand by my patients, no matter what. Even if it puts me in danger."

His words hit me harder than expected.All I could respond with was a half-hearted joke:

"Trying to look cool, aren't you?You really embarrassed me, you know."

His face turned red as he looked away, muttering:"Shouldn't have even started this conversation with you…"

I burst out laughing.A clear, sincere laugh — probably my first in a long time.

The doctor lifted his head, smiling:"At least you're finally smiling… from the heart."

I looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in orange and red hues.Without thinking, I murmured:"What a long day…"

He put his hands in his pockets, closed his eyes briefly as if absorbing the weight of the moment, then opened them again, gazing out with a thoughtful look:"Truly… a long day."

Am I dreaming? Or is this the reality that refused to complete itself?

Three months have passed since I took my middle school graduation exam…Now, high school has started.Thanks to my family, who never abandoned me, I'm enrolled.

Is all this real?I'm not afraid…And yet, if this is all just a dream —I hope I wake up from it peacefully.

I sat on the dull gray hospital bed, a worn-out white blanket wrapped around me.Cracks in the paint crept along the walls like silent wounds of time.Cold air slipped through the half-open window, brushing my cheek like a reminder:You're still alive. Your heart, though faint, hasn't stopped beating yet.

My eyes drifted downward, staring at my legs wrapped in the blanket…As if trying to find the traces of the last war my soul had fought.

"It really was fast… faster than I imagined."

Suddenly, as if time had responded to my wandering thoughts —The door creaked open again.Dr. Mohammed stepped inside quietly, wearing a faint smile filled with both sorrow and warmth.His eyes lingered on me like a father seeing his long-lost child after a storm.

With a soft, tired voice, he said:"Today… is your freedom day. Your treatment is over. It's time to go home, Hakim."

I looked up in disbelief.My eyes held a mix of hope and fear.

"Wasn't it supposed to be three more months?"I counted the days… I'm not even halfway. Why now?

Dr. Mohammed:"You've recovered faster than expected. Sure, there are scars left inside you… but they won't stop you from living your life the way you want."

His words seeped into me like sunlight in winter.Yet part of my mind refused to believe it —Maybe because a small part of me had grown… attached to this strange place.

The other part?It hated the idea of returning to school.Not now… not at the start of a new term with all its noise and chaos.I wished I could've started in the middle of the year.

Hakim (muttering to himself):"… Damn it."

Dr. Mohammed clearly heard me, but didn't respond right away.He just raised a brow and teased:"What was that?"

Hakim:"I mean... am I going home today? Oh, and can I keep this?"—I pointed to the oversized white robe I was wearing.

Dr. Mohammed chuckled softly:"Yeah, take it. On me."

Hakim, quickly:"No, I was joking!"

I waved my hand, declining, but Mohammed insisted:"I said take it."

In the end, I agreed.

We both laughed —A short but sincere laugh, echoing from deep within, carrying a strange sense of relief… a fleeting taste of peace.

At that moment, I noticed something in Mohammed's eyes.He was gazing far away, at something invisible.His expression — tinged with either joy… or distant memories I couldn't understand.

Hakim (suddenly serious):"Mohammed… can I ask you something?"

Mohammed, smiling gently as he turned back to me:"Of course."

Hakim:"Do you have any regrets in life… something you wish no one else would ever repeat?"

[Narrator – External]A quiet silence filled the room.Only the soft wind rustling the curtain could be heard.

Their eyes met.And for a moment, Hakim felt closer than ever to this mysterious man.

Mohammed replied, his tone careful and quiet:"Why do you ask?"

I looked at him, steady and calm:"Because you give me a lot of advice… but sometimes you seem lost in thought, like there's a shadow on your face I can't read."

[Narrator – External]Mohammed nodded slowly, as if trying to shake off old memories, then said in a dry, measured voice:"I'm a doctor. It's my duty to advise those who've gone astray… especially if I've known someone like them."

[Hakim – Inner Voice]But you advised me even before you knew me…

[Narrator – External]The sunlight streamed through the window, painting golden lines across the pale white walls.Outside, birds chirped faintly.The old AC unit hummed, cooling the air slightly.

I noticed his hesitation.He was about to ask "When?", but stopped himself.As if a memory dragged him backward —Back to the day I was drowning in my own blood… accused of attempted murder.

His gaze grew heavy.In his eyes — a spark of guilt… or longing… or maybe both.

I said, as if I were the doctor now:"You can speak your heart… I'm here to listen."

[Narrator – External]A heavy silence returned.The breeze danced with the curtain.Light flickered on Mohammed's conflicted face.He finally raised his eyes — as if he had made a decision:

"Do you really want to hear it?"

[Hakim – Inner Voice]I nodded firmly.

"Yes… I want to know."