Chapter 6: What’s Going On?
Charles walked down a narrow hallway, hands stuffed in the pockets of his still-damp tunic.
The fountain trick had worked, sure, but it'd been pure luck.
If the electricity hadn't spread like it did, those guys might still be pounding him into the dirt.
But something else was gnawing at him.
His memories as a college student—exams, late nights gaming in front of a screen—were getting hazy.
Charles tried picturing his apartment, the clack of his keyboard, even his friends' faces, but the images slipped away.
Instead, scraps of another life started filling the gaps: Rian stepping into a small room, Rian scrubbing floors, Rian taking hits without fighting back...
"What's happening to me?" Charles muttered, stopping in front of a worn wooden door.
Instinct told him it was his room. He hadn't consciously thought it, but his feet had brought him here.
'So this is that room...' Charles thought as he pushed the door open.
The space was basic. A narrow bed with a threadbare blanket sat in one corner, and a wobbly table leaned against the wall. A tiny window, high up, barely let in any light.