Chapter 2: Stranger in the Park

DANICA

The headaches were a nightmare, but the sleepwalking was worse. I once found myself five miles outside of town, and that’s when I knew I had to take drastic measures. I started chaining myself to my bed at night.

Ms. Moore, bless her heart, first tried using silk fabric to tie me down, but I woke up in the forest with remnants of silk around my wrists. Then she tried rope, but that only resulted in rope burns and another outdoor awakening.

So, we resorted to chains, and for years now, I’ve been waking up in my bed like a regular person—except, of course, I’m not.

Maybe that’s why I never pushed to move out. Ms. Moore understood my condition and never made it weird.

Like every other night, I locked my wrist in a chain and tucked the key into my bedside drawer. The sleep wasn’t always comfortable, but it was better than waking up in some random place.

Even locked doors couldn’t contain me—I always found a way out.

Then there were the dreams. Dreams of a man. I’ve been seeing him in my dreams for a couple of years now.

His features were always blurry, and once I woke up, everything got jumbled. I’d never met this man before. But the time I spent pondering about this mystery figure made me feel like I knew him.

I’ve read that pain can make people’s minds go haywire. Maybe that’s what he was—a side effect of my pain. Sometimes, though, he was the only thing that could lull me to sleep. He was a distraction from my headache. He intrigued me.

~I was heading home from work when I spotted him.~

~He was sitting on a park bench, blood dripping from his hand. I was hesitant to approach. I’d never met him before. It was getting dark, and I knew my headache would kick in soon. But I went to him anyway.~

“Hello…,” I said, my voice shaky.

~He didn’t respond at first, but eventually, he looked up. He must have noticed my hesitation.~

“You look hurt,” I said, and he glanced down at his mangled hand. “Do you need some help?” I tried to gauge his reaction to figure out if it was safe for me to be near him.

“No,” he replied, his voice low and raspy.

~I moved a little closer. He was well-dressed, didn’t look homeless.~

“I can call an ambulance.” His blood was pooling at his feet.

“I’m fine,” he said again. How could he be so calm?

~I usually kept to myself. But there was something about his broken demeanor, his apparent resignation. It felt familiar.~

~I cautiously sat down next to him.~

“At least let me take a look,” I offered, but he didn’t respond.

~I gently reached for his wrist. He didn’t pull away, so I carefully lifted his hand. The sight of the blood gushing from his wounds made me gasp.~

~I quickly unwrapped my dark blue scarf and tied it around his hand.~

“You need to go to the hospital. You need stitches,” I told him.

~He pulled his hand back.~

“The hospital is no place for me. This town, this world—it’s not for me.”

~His words made my heart ache. But it wasn’t my place to pry.~

“They can stitch you up, and then you can leave.”

“I can’t,” he retorted.

“Did you do something?” I asked, my voice trembling. Was he a criminal? Was that why he couldn’t seek help?

~He let out a bitter chuckle.~

“You could say that.”

~Maybe I shouldn’t have been alone with him in the park.~

“How bad?”

~He looked at me.~

“So bad that you shouldn’t be sitting here.”

~My mouth went dry. I slowly stood up and resumed my walk home. But I couldn’t help but look back. He was still there, head hung low, my scarf wrapped around his wounds.~

~I dashed to the nearby pharmacy, grabbing a handful of supplies to tend to his injuries. I just hoped he’d still be there when I got back. As luck would have it, he was still there, sitting just as he had been.~

~A throbbing sensation began in my head. But he was hurting too, and I knew all too well what pain felt like. It’s not something I’d wish on anyone.~

~Once again, I approached him and took a seat beside him. He glanced at me.~

“Maybe I shouldn’t be interacting with strangers in the park. But at least let me patch you up, then I’ll leave you alone.”

~I started to pull out the bandages and a can of disinfectant spray. I had also picked up a surgical sewing kit, but I had no clue how to stitch up skin. At the very least, I could bandage it properly.~

~Gently, I took his hand in my lap and began to remove my bloodied scarf. I doused his hand in the sterile liquid, expecting him to flinch, but he didn’t. Not even a hint of discomfort. I carefully started to wrap his hand with the bandage.~

“You’re used to pain?”

~I chuckled to myself.~

“I get that. My pain is a bit different though. I suffer from severe headaches.”

~He was watching me. I could feel it.~

“Migraines?”

~I shook my head.~

“Worse. It’s been this way as long as I can remember. Sharp, jolting pain in my brain, always when darkness falls. I’ve lived with it my whole life. It’s terrible, but I’ve grown accustomed to it.”

~He was studying me intently.~

“Don’t feel sorry for me. It’s not ideal, but I can handle it. It won’t break me,” I joked, but that was far from the truth. Sometimes, I feared it might.

“There must be a limit. For how much pain you humans can endure.”

“Humans? So, you’re not one?” I smirked.

~He didn’t respond to my question.~

“What is your name?” he asked.

“If I shouldn’t be sitting here, then I really shouldn’t be telling you my name, right?” There was something oddly soothing about him. Normally, it took me a while to warm up to people. But with him, it was different.

“Do you live here?” he asked.

“I can’t really answer that without knowing what terrible thing you’ve done.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said. It was exactly the kind of thing someone who’d done something awful would say.

~I finished bandaging his hand and stood up. His gaze followed me.~

“I should go.”

“What’s your name?” he asked again.

~It was just a name. I let out a heavy sigh. “Danica.”~

~He extended his hand for me to shake. “Nice to meet you, Danica.”~

~I took his hand, surprisingly warm and comforting. He didn’t let go immediately. “What’s yours?” I asked.~

~At that, he released my hand. “I don’t give my name to strangers,” he said, standing up.

“Thank you for your help,” he said, pulling out some shiny stones from his pocket. He placed them in my palm.~

~He turned and walked away, leaving me with the stones. It was odd, but I didn’t dwell on it.

I strolled back home, toying with the shiny stones in my pocket.

When I crawled into bed, I realized my head was starting to ache.~

~I had just realized I had been pain-free until now. How?

I’d never had a painless night before.~

~When I was bandaging his hand, it still hurt…those stones.

I walked over to my jacket and pulled them out.

Holding them in my hands seemed to help. My head felt better.

What was happening?~

~I took the stones to bed with me, clutching them tightly in my fist.

I chained my hand and lay down. I was okay. Pain-free.~

~For the first time in forever, I fell asleep without any pain.

But in the middle of the night, I was awakened.

Someone was standing by my bed, examining my chained hand.~

~It was the man from the park.

But his hand was healed.

I was about to scream, but his hand shot to my mouth, and I blacked out.~