MY SISTER KEPT SHAKING HER HEAD WHEN THE DOCTOR SAID HIS NAME
I gripped the armrest, the hospital waiting room spinning with the smell of disinfectant and stale coffee. My vision blurred around the edges, everything tightening.
Dr. Evans walked in, his face grim, and my sister, Sarah, immediately started twisting her rings, her knuckles white. “He’s stable,” he began, and Sarah let out a shaky breath that sounded more like a sob, “but we found something unexpected during his workup. A genetic marker for a very rare, hereditary condition.” My heart hammered against my ribs, cold dread seeping in.
Sarah’s eyes, wide and terrified, darted to me, then back to the doctor. “That’s impossible!” she practically shrieked, her voice thin and high-pitched, echoing slightly in the quiet room. “No one in our family, *ever*, has had anything like that. You must be wrong!” The fluorescent lights above us hummed, casting harsh shadows that made her skin look pale and sickly, almost green.
Dr. Evans adjusted his glasses, a slow, deliberate movement. He looked directly at Sarah, his gaze unwavering, then shifted it to me. “It’s an exact match,” he said, his voice unusually quiet, “a perfect genetic fingerprint. Given this, and the patient’s age… are you two, perhaps, full siblings?” The air around me suddenly felt like ice, making my teeth chatter slightly. My mind raced, trying to find a logical explanation, but there was none.
Before I could even process the words, before I could ask what he truly meant, the double doors behind him burst open with a crash, the sound deafening.
A security guard rushed in, face pale, shouting, “Everyone, move back! We have a code silver!”
👇 Full story continued in the comments…The code silver ripped through the already fractured calm. Panic erupted in the waiting room. People scrambled to their feet, knocking over chairs, their faces contorted in fear. Sarah, however, remained frozen, her eyes locked on Dr. Evans. I grabbed her arm, trying to pull her to safety, but she was rooted to the spot, her body trembling.
“Sarah, come on!” I urged, my voice barely audible above the chaos.
“No,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread. “He’s lying. They’re all lying.”
Ignoring the rising panic, I steered her towards the relative safety of a corner, away from the doors. The security guard, seemingly oblivious to us, was yelling at the nurses and orderlies, attempting to regain control.
The doctor, surprisingly, followed us. He didn’t say anything, just watched Sarah with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher – a mix of concern and… something else.
“What… what does it mean?” I stammered, finally breaking the silence. “This genetic marker… what is it?”
Dr. Evans sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “It’s a condition called Chronos Syndrome. It’s extremely rare. It affects the body’s ability to… well, to experience time normally. The patient’s age is a factor as the disease progresses.”
My head reeled. “Time? What does that even mean?”
“In its later stages,” the doctor continued, his voice hushed, “patients experience accelerated aging and physical deterioration. It manifests differently in each individual. We’re talking about an accelerated aging process, perhaps multiple times faster than normal.” He hesitated, then added, “It often presents with cognitive and psychological disturbances.”
Sarah, finally, spoke, her voice a low, guttural sound. “Then… that’s why he’s been… seeing things.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, fear clutching at my throat.
Sarah didn’t look at me. She stared fixedly at Dr. Evans, her eyes narrowed, and whispered, “Dad. Dad’s been saying things. About people he remembers. About… about things that haven’t happened yet. He’s been saying he’s ‘lived this before.’”
The doctor’s gaze sharpened. “And your father’s age?”
“Sixty-three,” Sarah whispered.
He inhaled sharply. “And your brother’s?”
“Five.”
A chilling silence fell. It was broken by the approaching footsteps of the security guard who stopped abruptly in front of us, eyes darting suspiciously between the doctor and us.
“Are you alright, Doctor?” He asked, voice tense. “You’re with these patients, right?”
Dr. Evans nodded. “Yes. I’ll handle it.” He took a deep breath and, surprisingly, spoke to the guard in a low, steady tone. “Let’s go. We need to secure the premises before the situation escalates.”
As the guard hesitantly turned to follow the doctor, he added, glancing at Sarah, “And we need to speak about family history.”
Once they were out of earshot, I looked at my sister, my mind struggling to make sense of everything. “What did he mean by ‘exact match’? He implied that you and I are…?”
Before I could finish, Sarah grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “We need to get out of here,” she said urgently. “Now.”
“Why? What’s happening?”
“Dad… the condition… it’s not what they think. It’s worse.” Her eyes were wide with terror. “He’s been seeing things. And he’s been trying to warn us. He’s not our dad.”
Then, from the end of the hallway, a voice, distorted and crackling with static, pierced the chaos.
“Help me. I’m in the future.”
It was my father’s voice. And the sound made my blood turn to ice.