It had been two weeks since the incident.
Half of that time was a blur that I could barely remember. The other half? Torture—slow, boring, and extremely unfair.
My mom hadn't stopped visiting since she found out. That part was expected. What wasn't expected was the routine she settled into: arrive, cry like the world was ending, then fall asleep beside my bed. Rinse. Repeat.
It hurt to watch, especially since after the first four days, I'd already regained consciousness.
The problem was—no one knew. It had caused me to panic at first, but humans are adaptable creatures. After three days of repeated disappointment, I adapted too. Or maybe "accepted it" was a more accurate word to use.
I decided to name my condition the semi-death state.
Catchy, right? Well I thought so and I still think so.
Why?
Well the state was really peculiar, actually it could be better described as bizarre, I couldn't perform any noticeable intentional action like moving, speaking, or even the dramatic finger twitch to prove I was alive. Even controlling my breathing was impossible. I tried. A lot in fact. But nothing.
I could still hear things thankfully which kept me from going crazy. Oh here did I mention that I couldn't sleep. Nope not even when bored and quite frankly I never even got tired so couldn't depend on that loophole.
I could still smell things, Hospitals, by the way, have a very distinct scent—something between disinfectant and despair.
What did really send me spiraling was that I couldn't feel anything. That had been most painful to accept. I thought I'd become permanently paralyzed. This was a hellish idea as quite frankly no one knew I was conscious so they where two possibilities.
One was that I would remain on life support for ever the other was they might switch it of once the cost of supporting it couldn't be paid for and knowing my mom she might just keep it active until she was deep in dept.
This left me with two possible choices that I found unwilling to accept, both which would cause her to suffer though in my heart I knew the last one would prove to be most lethal to her.
Thankfully, I didn't need to choose.
A few days after regaining consciousness, I got my sight back. Weirdly enough, no one still noticed.
I could see nurses moving around, throwing pitying looks my way. Some of them didn't even bother hiding the disgust.
It honestly made me wonder why they'd chosen healthcare if they couldn't do their jobs without staring at a patient like he/she where something they stepped on.
At first, I thought my eyes must've been open already, which raised a very concerning question: Who opened them? and did this guys not fear a bad review.
That theory died pretty fast during a routine check-up.
The doctor had placed his hand on my face and, I'm pretty sure, manually opened my eyes to shine a light inside.
I was quite certain my eyes where already open, so I found this quite weird.
I expected the light to be brutal so I instinctively blinked to avoid it—then opened my eyes again, only for the light to remain there a second longer before being removed.
Then I heard it.
"Still no response."
…Excuse me?
Hadn't I blinked?
For a brief, very fearful moment, I wondered if there was some kind of conspiracy going on.
Then common sense kicked in. Firstly the light did not have the usual blinding effect that would require adjusting to it. I had blinked initially however that was instinctive not a need.
Secondly, Really a conspiracy, Was I the president or some rich tycoon. Nope so probably not a conspiracy.
As the days passed, A third thought gradually formed—one that took a lot of processing.
Maybe I wasn't moving… but my body was,
hmm, Nope that sound's all wrong
maybe my body wasn't moving, but I was,
okay a bit philosophical but much better. Was this a physical thing? or a spiritual thing?
Or was I dead?
please not. I rather I am not dead.
That question looped endlessly in my mind, which was how the name semi-death state was created. A name to calm my agitated heart.
The theory gained more weight when I realized I could speak—except no one could hear me. Later, I could even move, and once I was officially declared conscious, it settled things.
I was alive.
I let out a long sigh and dropped my phone—the one Alex had smuggled in for me like contraband.
My mom had banned all electronics, claiming I needed "proper rest." Yet she had gone out to buy me a stack of textbooks for the exam coming up in a month.
Honestly, it made me wonder if she wanted me to recover…
or just die from excessive reading.
In my opinion I rather die scrolling than reading
So I choose the easier and more exciting one, scrolling through the feeds. Life was good I was alive, survived a near death case that would probably have made some to lose their mind.
Solitary confinement was fucked up, even more when it was your body doing the confining.
An idea popped into my head, so I decided to check it out. I picked up my phone and closed the app I had been on opening a search site. There, I typed in the keywords: [Real life ghost stories].
The first results were books—collections of ghost stories. Not what I was looking for as I was more interested in videos.
Scrolling down, I found recorded clips. Some displayed horrifying thumbnails—faces twisted in ways no one would want to see, even in their worst nightmares.
I stared for a few moments before shaking my head and scrolling past.
Those videos were obviously fake. I mean, really—what kind of nerve would it take to get a close-up picture of something like that? They didn't look zoomed in. Not from a distance. But right in front of it?
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
Green screen. Had to be.
I kept scrolling, passing images of distorted babies and unsightly creatures, until I reached the end. Three websites appeared each with there unique titles so I opened the first.
TO → GHOSTLY
The page loaded slowly.
The font was styled to look as if it had been written in dried blood—uneven, jagged, and dripping at the edges. The background was a dull grey-black, textured like stained concrete. Blurred silhouettes occasionally flickered along the sides of the screen, just subtle enough to make you question whether they were actually moving.
Despite the unpleasant design, the site was easy to navigate.
I scrolled through the videos. Many had terrifying thumbnails, but I couldn't be bothered. Every time I clicked one, the same thing happened—the ghost would appear directly in front of the camera.
That alone made it unbelievable.
Still, I watched a few. When I saw the camera moving, following the figure from behind as if the person filming wasn't even afraid, I lost interest.
I switched it off and moved on.
At that moment, the door to my ward was pushed open.
I reacted immediately—hiding my phone and adjusting myself to look like I had just woken up.
But when I saw who entered, I froze mid-blink.
He was dressed entirely in white, from polished shoes to a pristine tailored suit. A glass-like flower was pinned over his left chest, and a smooth white mask covered his face, its surface glaring under the harsh hospital lights. A white hat rested neatly atop his head, and a refined walking stick completed the ensemble. The brightness of his all-white figure made him feel almost unreal against the sterile surroundings.
My muscles tensed, ready to run. My hand at the same time shooting toward the emergency button.
The reason was obvious.
My mother had specifically stationed two officers! outside the door. Their job was to prevent anyone from entering except the only doctor and nurse I was familiar with. I still had more than a few dangerous enemies out there. Even my friends had to call me first so I could approve their entry.
And yet this man had simply walked in.
No call. No explanation.
yep, sus.
My hand stopped just short of the button.
I blanked.
When I looked up to identify the reason, I was met with another man standing right beside my bed.
His appearance was the complete opposite of the white figure—dressed entirely in black, hooded, with a mask that gave him an eerie presence from every angle.
When did he walk in?
I decided screaming might be the best option. My voice was still weak from days of silence, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
A tiny squeak escaped instead.
The man in white pulled up a chair and sat beside me, slightly away from the black-clad individual who was still holding my arm.
The corners of the masked man's eyes curved slightly.
He was smiling.
"Do refrain," he said, his voice smooth, refined, and calm—the tone of a well-educated gentleman speaking over afternoon tea. "Raising your voice would prove quite ineffective, and I fear it would be detrimental to your recovery."
Seeing my expression tighten, he raised a gloved hand.
"Not a threat, my boy. I was referring to your throat. You will know quite clearly when I intend to threaten you."
His eyes curved into crescents. He was definitely smiling.
Another black-clad figure approached and handed him a briefcase.
My eyes widened.
First the one holding my arm. Now this one.
Where were they coming from?
Could social media really ruin a person's awareness this badly?
I silently promised myself to cut down my screen time. Quitting completely might be difficult.
The man in white opened the briefcase and removed several items.
First—a sheet of paper, rolled like a scroll and tied with a cord. Then a book. And finally, an elegant pen.
After arranging them neatly, he looked up.
"I believe you are one of the five individuals involved in the incident at Bluestone Forest."
I looked away, not answering instead I called out to the police outside.
No response.
"I did say that they cannot hear you," he said calmly. "Please answer the question. I am rather pressed for time—and, more importantly, this is for your own benefit."
I studied him.
He didn't seem unstable. If he were one of those fanatics, I'd already be dead. And if the officers had allowed him in, his authority must be extremely high.
Still, one thing first.
"And you are?" I asked.
"Ah. My apologies. An oversight on my part."
He gave a slight nod to the black suited individual who promptly released me.
"You may refer to me as Mr. Blanc. I am an operative of the Special Bureau."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Now then, I would appreciate it if you answered my earlier question to the best of your ability. And do endeavour to be truthful. I have a particular dislike for falsehoods."
I shivered.
His tone was gentle, but it carried the quiet certainty of someone who could end your life without effort.
"Y-yes," I nodded quickly.
He marked something down.
"Please describe your activities throughout the day in question. This should include: your actions prior to entering the forest, your reason for entering the forest, your activities within the forest, the circumstances of your escape, and the actions of the other individuals present.
"Should you recount events you did not personally witness, you must clearly label them as speculation. Guesswork is discouraged. If used, it must be identified as such."
The list felt overwhelming.
But strangely enough, I remembered everything perfectly.
I didn't question it. I simply answered—truthfully and in full detail.
And when I say full detail, I mean everything.
Nothing was spared. Not even my business in the restroom.
White Hat's expression never changed. When I finished, he stopped marking the paper.
He tossed me the scroll, this I glanced at.
"What am I supposed to do?" I asked.
"Read it," he replied.
I looked down again opening it but on checking it I was left confused.
read what?
"It's blank." I questioned, wondering if it was a joke.
He raised a brow and leaned forward, attempting to mark something.
"Oh—sorry," I said quickly on checking again. "It's not blank."
Maybe the pressure was getting to me.
He straightened.
"Review the clauses carefully. Once finished, sign at your convenience. Though I would strongly recommend doing so promptly."
He then gestured I come closer. This I did, He hand blurred appearing on my neck which inadvertently caused me to panic however before I could dart away a warm feeling coursed through me.
"For the truth a reward is required"
He then stood up and turned to leave, pausing at the door.
"These two operatives will remain with you for two days. I advise you to complete the signing before that period expires."
Then he left.
I touched my neck finding that the bruises where gone even my throat felt much better
I looked down at the document then at the door I couldn't sign it My mother had specifically warned me not to sign anything.
Still it seemed it was for my own good, what that meant I couldn't understand and what I was reading I found rather strange.
Do not disclose the existence of the entity to any non-participants…
I turned to look at my new bodyguards but was faced with an empty ward
I was alone.
I hadn't seen them leave.
Hadn't heard them leave.
I blinked in confusion then slowly looked back at the document.
My eyes widened.
The clauses were gone.
Instead, words bounced across the page from edge to edge. Some hid behind others. A few even seemed to be playing hide-and-seek.
I stared hard at it then, decided to sleep for a bit
perhaps I was as mother said quite tired