totally meta

chapter two

I jolt awake, my eyes snapping open to a blindingly bright room. For a moment, I expect to feel that familiar sluggishness of waking up too fast, but... I don't. Instead, there's something different—an energy coursing through me, strong and alive, like electricity in my veins. It's like I've been plugged into a power source I never knew existed. My whole body hums with it.

I sit up quickly, more quickly than I should. The bed creaks under me as I swing my legs over the side, feeling stronger, more awake than I ever have before. Everything around me feels sharper, clearer. My senses are on overdrive—colors are more vivid, the lights overhead flicker like they're dancing, and even the air feels charged.

I'm not sure where I am, but it's not the apartment I share with my mom. That much is obvious. The room is sterile, too clean, too quiet. My mind buzzes, a million questions colliding all at once.

"Henry Michael," a voice calls from nearby.

I turn my head, startled by how fast I react. Standing next to the bed is a woman—mid-twenties, maybe 24 or 25. She's wearing a white lab coat, holding a clipboard, watching me with that same calm, clinical expression I've come to expect from doctors. Her dark hair is tied neatly back, and there's a confidence in her posture that sets my nerves on edge.

She says my name again, like it's something she's been repeating for weeks. "You live in a one-bedroom apartment with your mother. You were diagnosed with autism and ADHD when you were younger."

I blink, trying to make sense of the situation. How does she know all of this?

I try to stand, and to my surprise, I can. Easily. It's like every muscle, every nerve, is working perfectly. Better than perfectly, even. My confusion grows deeper.

"How do you know all that?" I demand, my voice stronger than I expected.

The woman looks at her clipboard, flipping through the pages like she's reading off a script. "You've been here for two weeks now. After you were struck by lightning, paramedics brought you to the hospital. But they couldn't stabilize you."

"Two weeks?" I repeat, the shock setting in. "What do you mean, two weeks?"

She glances up, meeting my eyes. "The power kept going out—always from the room you were in. The hospital staff couldn't keep you stable. Their equipment malfunctioned every time they tried to run tests or administer treatment. That's when they contacted us. Seven Labs."

The name means nothing to me, and I frown. "Seven Labs? What is this place?"

"We specialize in experimental technologies and research, particularly in cases like yours—anomalous cases," she explains. "The lightning didn't just strike you. It... altered you."

"Altered?" The word feels alien in my mouth. I look down at my hands, at my body, trying to grasp what she means. "What are you talking about?"

"The energy you absorbed during the lightning strike," she says, "it's not normal. You're not just recovering. You're different now. Your body is reacting to it. You're generating electrical anomalies, even as we speak."

I don't know how to respond to that. It sounds ridiculous, impossible. Yet, I can feel it—the energy humming beneath my skin. The lights in the room flicker, almost in sync with my heartbeat. "So, what? I'm some kind of... power source?"

"We're still figuring that out," she says, almost too casually. "That's why you've been here for two weeks. We've been monitoring you, studying the changes in your body. You've been unconscious for most of that time, adjusting to the... new energy inside you."

I stand fully now, testing the limits of my newfound strength. Every movement feels precise, powerful. "I feel... different," I admit, my voice quieter now, uncertain. "Like I'm... I don't know, stronger."

"That's to be expected," she says, her tone clinical. "The lightning strike has fundamentally altered your biology. It's given you abilities that we're just beginning to understand."

I take a deep breath, trying to wrap my head around everything she's saying. The past two weeks are a blank—gone. But the energy I feel now is undeniable, and part of me doesn't even care how I got here. I feel more alive than I ever have before.

I lock eyes with her. "What are you going to do to me?"

Dr. Harris, as she introduced herself, doesn't hesitate. "We're going to run some more tests, Henry. Nothing invasive, but we need to understand exactly what's happening to you. For your own safety and the safety of others."

"Safety?" My stomach twists. "Am I... dangerous?"

"To yourself and others, potentially, yes," she says bluntly. "Until we figure out the full extent of your condition, you need to remain here. It's for your protection."

I clench my fists, feeling a small spark of static run through my fingers. She's watching me, but not with fear. More like... curiosity. Like she's waiting for something.

I'm not sure if I want to give her what she's waiting for.

"I need to go home," I say, my voice firm.

"You're not stable yet," she replies coolly. "If we let you leave now, there's no telling what might happen."

My heart pounds in my chest, the energy inside me swelling again. I glance at the door, wondering how hard it would be to get out of here.

And then, as if sensing my thoughts, the lights flicker once more.

"You can't leave yet, Henry," she says, stepping closer. "But we can help you. Trust me—you don't want to leave until we know exactly what you're capable of."

Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. I don't know whether to trust her or not, but one thing's for sure: whatever has happened to me, whatever I've become, is something far beyond what I could have ever imagined.