Rosemary clutched Cynthia's frail hand, desperation clenching her throat. "We'll go ahead with the treatment," she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could reconsider.
Peterson stiffened beside her. His eyes flickered with shock, then deep concern. "Rosemary—" he started, voice low, urgent.
She shook her head sharply. "No. We can't waste time, Peterson."
Doctor Sandy, quick to capitalize on her resolve, clapped his hands together. "Great! I'll prepare the gaming device right away." He spun on his heel and disappeared down the corridor before either of them could object.
Peterson exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "How?" His voice was barely above a whisper, heavy with unspoken fears. "How do we pay for fifty thousand dollars of treatment, Rosemary?"
She turned to him, gripping his hands. "We find a way."
He scoffed, shaking his head. "That's not a plan."
"My boss—" she pressed forward, urgency etched into her features. "If we go to the restaurant, if I explain everything, I know he'll help."
Peterson's expression twisted between doubt and reluctant hope. "Rosemary, you think he'll just—just hand us that kind of money?"
"I won't ask for all of it," she insisted. "But something. Anything. We have to try."
Peterson ran a hand down his face, a deep sigh escaping. He cast a final glance at their daughter, silent and unmoving, before nodding. "Fine. Let's go."
They hurried out of the ward, their footsteps fading into the sterile hospital halls.
Left alone, Cynthia stirred. Her chest rose and fell with shallow, uneven breaths. Who am I? The question rattled inside her, unanswered, unrelenting.
The door clicked open again. A nurse entered, adjusting the monitors near her bed. Cynthia blinked at her, eyes glossy with confusion. "Who were those people?" Her voice was raw, uncertain.
The nurse offered a gentle smile. "Your parents."
Cynthia stared blankly. "My parents?" The words tasted foreign. She hesitated, chewing on them. "Why—why do I not remember them?"
The nurse's smile faltered slightly. "The accident," she explained gently. "It—well, it affected your memory."
Cynthia swallowed. "What accident?" A fresh wave of unease curled in her stomach.
The nurse paused. "I think it's better if your parents explain."
Cynthia's throat tightened. Parents. Strangers who had just promised to fight for her, to pay thousands for her treatment. Was she really worth that?
She stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. The sadness was sharp, almost unbearable. And yet, within it, a strange warmth flickered—a tiny ember of hope.
Half an hour later, the door swung open, and Doctor Sandy strode in, accompanied by three nurses. A sleek device rested in his hands, his expression brimming with enthusiasm.
"Well, well, look who's very active, Cynthia?" His voice was warm, deliberate.
Cynthia blinked. "Cynthia?" The name felt distant, unfamiliar. Is that really my name? Her memory remained stubbornly blank. She decided it was best not to push herself.
"My name is Doctor Charles Sandy." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm here to help Miss Cynthia Graziano."
The repeated use of her name—it wasn't accidental. He was trying to etch it into her mind, hoping it would trigger something. Cynthia nodded slowly. Go along with it. What other choice did she have? Her mind was a void, a blank slate she couldn't fill.
"How are you feeling, my dear?" Doctor Sandy pulled up a chair beside her bed.
"My head hurts a little…" She hesitated, then swallowed hard. "And I—I don't remember anything." Her voice cracked as she admitted it.
Doctor Sandy gave her an encouraging nod. "You had an accident," he explained gently. "But don't worry—your memories will return soon."
She searched his face for certainty, some kind of anchor in the chaos of her mind. "You think so?"
"I know so." His confidence was unwavering. "Just be patient. Don't be too hard on yourself."
She let out a slow breath. Patience? That was easy for him to say. He wasn't trapped in a body that felt utterly foreign, a mind that held nothing familiar.
Doctor Sandy reached for her hand, his grip firm yet kind. "Tell me, do you like playing games?"
The question caught her off guard. She tilted her head slightly. "Games?" The word felt hollow, meaningless.
Doctor Sandy chuckled. "Ah, maybe I should just show you."
He glanced at the nurse holding the device. "Thanks, Viviana," he said as she handed it over.
"You're welcome, Doctor," Viviana replied, dimples deepening as she giggled.
Doctor Sandy turned back to Cynthia, lifting the device. "This," he said dramatically, "is a virtual reality game."
She frowned. "A game?"
"Not just any game," he corrected. "With this, you can travel to new worlds, meet people, complete missions—live out adventures beyond your wildest dreams. You can even earn real money." He grinned. "My daughter Selena uses hers to buy toys."
Cynthia hesitated. A world where everything happened exactly the way you wanted? It sounded too good to be true. She studied his face, searching for any trace of deception—but all she found was genuine excitement.
"I guess... so," she said finally.
Doctor Sandy beamed. "Good choice!" He leaned in slightly. "I know you overheard my conversation with your parents earlier."
Cynthia stiffened. "Parents?"
Doctor Sandy's expression softened. "Yes. The two people who were here earlier."
Cynthia swallowed hard. The word felt wrong—empty. "I… don't remember them."
"That's okay," Doctor Sandy assured her. "Give it time."
She barely nodded before the nurse helped her put on the device. A whirlwind of emotions swirled inside her—fear, curiosity, and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, this was a step toward answers.
The moment the headset activated, her surroundings shifted. She was no longer in the sterile hospital room.
She stood in a ten-by-ten-meter square space, brightly lit—though she saw no lights. The floor, walls, and ceiling were translucent glass, encasing swirling gases in a kaleidoscope of colors. They moved with an almost deliberate rhythm, alive yet untouchable.
Her fingers tingled with an odd energy, resonating with the world before her.
Then, a voice—soft yet authoritative—filled the space.
"Hello, welcome to an online intra-multi-dimensional gaming voyage."