In the abandoned, dark alley, Asher was shivering from the cold and bleeding from several wounds inflicted upon him.
He was unconscious until his eyes flickered open at the sensation of raindrops falling on his face.
When he woke up, it took a moment for the pain to catch up with him. His vision blurred as agony flared across his body. He lay still, fighting down panic and trying not to cry out as each shallow breath sent burning spikes through his chest.
Opening his eyes again, Asher saw that he was lying in an empty alleyway. It was night-time, and it started to drizzle. There was no one in sight, just empty streets illuminated by dim street lights. He knew he needed help but couldn't see a way out without dragging himself along the ground like some kind of animal.
With no other option available, he tried to sit up. The effort caused him such intense pain that darkness threatened to claim him once more, and it was only through sheer force of will that he managed not to pass out again.
After taking several deep breaths, which made him want to scream, he pushed himself off the ground, using his arms to brace himself against the wall behind him.
The very next moment, a terrible headache came from nowhere—something akin to nails being hammered into his skull over and over again until he wished they would just drill straight through so that all this torture could end. But there was still enough presence left in him to know how ridiculous that thought was.
So he didn't give up despite every fiber of his being telling him otherwise, instead choosing to focus on staying conscious while waiting for whatever happened next.
It didn't take long before the pain subsided, giving way to clarity—clarity brought about by panic-induced adrenaline coursing through his veins. Once he regained control, Asher realized what had been nagging at him since waking up—why did this situation feel familiar? And then it hit him...
It was the same alleyway where he had been beaten to death before he became Asher Blake...
"Why am I here again, and why did it hurt so much?"
In a daze, Asher saw himself in the broken mirror lying in the corner. The flickering dim light along with the drizzling rain made it difficult to recognize the face reflected on it, but when he squinted, he could see the reflection of an eighteen-year-old boy with ruffled dark hair and black eyes that looked hollow. His face was covered in bruises, cuts, and blood stains.
One of his eye brows had a long cut, and his nose was crooked and broken.
But Asher couldn't care less about the superficial injuries. Instead, he focused on the fact that he looked just like he did when he died, even though it shouldn't be possible. It was as if nothing had changed. But somehow everything felt different now...
"If I'm still me, then what about everything else that happened? Was it a dream, or did I travel back in time?"
Asher wondered but shook the thought out of his mind. It couldn't be...
In spite of his best efforts, Asher fell down numerous times before reaching the end of the alleyway, but he didn't stop because he knew he couldn't afford to stop. He had to keep going, no matter what happened.
In this state of despair, he decided to only think of making his way to a free public hospital for treatment before taking the time to sort out everything else later. So, Asher walked in the direction of the nearest hospital in his mind.
By the time Asher arrived at the emergency entrance of the public hospital, his legs had given out under him.
When he raised his head, he saw several people rushing towards him, shouting at him to stay awake, but their voices sounded muffled due to the ringing in his ears.
Then darkness overcame Asher once again as he lost consciousness for the second time tonight.
.
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.
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"Another John Doe has just been admitted into the ICU. He has multiple internal injuries, including several cracked ribs and broken bones. His vitals are very weak, and the doctors say it's a miracle he's alive considering the amount of blood loss and trauma inflicted upon him. There is a possibility of permanent damage to his brain."
"I heard he was attacked by some thugs in a dark alleyway; whoever did this must have hated him real bad to do all that... The poor guy didn't deserve it. Anyway, the police will take care of it soon enough."
"Wait! A young man like this? Why would anyone try to kill him? It makes no sense whatsoever."
"What do you know about common gang violence these days, you old hag?! Even children join gangs nowadays! Just look at this kid's body; his limbs are all covered with bruises, and I bet he's not even older than 18. Who knows what kind of life he's living or where he came from? Now excuse me, but I need to go home; my husband is waiting for me. You can continue gossiping about this case alone."
The loud noises woke Asher up from his unconsciousness. When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying in an unfamiliar bed, surrounded by white walls and various machines around him. There was an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, along with several IV drips connected to his arm.
As soon as Asher noticed this, memories flashed through his mind and reminded him of the pain that came with those images. "It's not a dream after all. Everything that I went through as Asher Blake was not a reality, and I was just hallucinating from being comatose!"
Asher thought and felt a sense of loss, regret, and hopelessness, which made his eyes sting and tears run down his cheeks.