Holy crap holy crap holy crap. There was no way this was possible. What the hell was going on? What the hell was going on?! This had to be a dream. It was the only possible explanation. A dream. A horrible terrible crazy dream.

Ben pinched himself. And didn't wake up.


Shit shit.

Shit shit shit.

"Wake up!" he ordered himself. "You're dreaming. Wake up!"

If this had been a dream, I would have woken up when I cut myself with the knife.

"Oh no no no no no," he shook his head. There was something seriously mental going on. This was too crazy to be true. Insane. Mad.

Ben stared at his wrists where the suicide cuts were supposed to have been. All that could be seen was unmarked skin, pale and clear. He started to hyper ventilate. This was all too weird. What had actually happened to him? Suicide or car accident? Adopted or not? Axle…or imagination? What he going mad? Was he losing his mind?

Ben put his right hand on the counter of the kitchen sink to keep his weakening legs from giving out on him. A pain shot through his hand up his arm. Well, he certainly hadn't imagined cutting his hand with the knife. Ben put his left hand on the counter, and held himself steady until he was sure his legs would carry him out into the living room.

Carefully, Ben made his way to the couch. As he sat down, everything that had occurred in the past 24 hours ran through his mind at lighting-fast speeds. It couldn't be real. But it all had to be. That was just it. Everything was just so…real…so…



But…it couldn't all be real. It wasn't logical.

"Let's see…" he muttered to himself. The first thing that was supposed to have happened was…

"The car accident." Real or fake? Well…no broken bruises, no broken bones, nothing that indicated getting hit by a car. Well, except for feeling like something had crashed into him. Definitely not real, he decided.

Next that had occurred was waking up in the hospital, where he had first seen

"Axle." The guy sure seemed solid enough. But then again…nobody else had ever seen him. And he had a miraculous way of disappearing. But that still didn't explain how real he seemed. At least the getting hit by a car idea had actual evidence that it didn't exist.

And speaking of illegitimate evidence…what about his attempted suicide? His parents claimed they had come home and found him in a pool of his own blood, razor cuts all over his arms, and even a razor still embedded in his arm. And the words of the doctor (The Doctor). The man had talked to him. Had explained to him. And…well the bandages themselves. They had traces of blood on them.

It may not be your blood though. They might just want you to think it is.

"They?" he asked aloud. "Who are – stop it. There is no they." But, his arms…they had no cuts on them, no scabs, no scars. They were as clear as they had been the day he was born.


That was one of the strangest ones.

Seriously, Kenya?

Ben just shook his head. It was too strange. But he was almost positive it wasn't a dream.

What about a mental disorder…like schizophrenia? Ben shook his head at the idea. As far as he knew, stuff like that showed up earlier than at the age of 17. No, there was no way it was possible.

Ben laid down on the couch, closed his eyes, and continued to think about the events that were circling around him. It was too off. Too strange. Too much like…like…

"Some sort of science-fiction pulp story." He snorted with laughter. The idea was ridiculous. This was real life, not another stupid video game, or zombie movie, or...or…or…