Fate {now going to continue}

Chapter One

Chapter One

I woke up this morning feeling a little younger, like I had just woken up from the longest sleep I ever had. The bedroom was strange. Unfamiliar. I didn't know where I was, nor did I know why I was here. There must have been a party, or a trip to a club or a bar. I must have been pretty drunk last night. Too drunk to remember it all.

I squinted my eyes as a result of the blinding lights escaping through the open window and looked around. The walls were covered with different posters of bands with names I have never heard of and women wearing bikinis who I have never seen in my life. At my left hung a uniform off the back of a closet door—a simple white shirt and a dark blue-coloured pants—with a yellow sticky note. It read: Wake up, sleepyhead with a smiley face at the end. Though, I could make out something else. The clothes were a little familiar, but I was not quite sure. Maybe I have seen it in the mall while I was picking up the groceries or I have seen someone wearing it somewhere. Somewhere I don't know.

I wonder where the owner of the room was. Do I need to worry about him? I imagined him standing at the other side of the room, with a mixture of shock, curiosity and fiery in his eyes, calling me profanities. I wonder how I would defend myself. I took a deep breath. I needed to get out of this room before he does.

I carefully slid out of the covers, trying not to screw it up—after all, sleeping on a stranger's bed is one thing, and the least that I could do is not to burn his room—and sat on the edge of the bed. My head was still heavy, but I tried to shake it off before stepping my bare feet onto the cold landing. The door was ajar, and I checked if someone was around before sliding out. As soon as the cold temperature wrapped my exposed skin, I shivered. It was then that I realized I was topless, and was only wearing red boxers I guessed was his. Not only have I slept in someone's room but I have also worn one of his belongings. I sighed. I ought to be ashamed.

The hallway was deserted. At my left was a room. The door was filled with warning signs and stickers like a normal kid would have. I guessed it must be to his younger brother's. At my right was another, but this time, the door was clean from any stickers, and it was dead silent. There was no sound of life, and the light was off.

I walked silently down the stairs, fearful of making a single noise. I was aware of the voices below, and the sweet aroma lingering in the air. Someone was cooking, and just thinking of it made my stomach growl. No, I stopped myself, that was too much. First, I slept in someone's bed. Second, I have worn his boxers and now, I am going to eat in his own house?

Just then, someone slapped me on the back. I didn't know if it was an attack of knowing a stranger was inside their house, and I waited for more, for a punch or a hard contact on my head. But nothing came.

"Mark, I'm so surprised you're so up this early!" a male voice greeted. At first, I didn't know who he was talking to but I realized he was talking to me. I looked back at him. His face was marked with age, but the glee in his face was evident. His hair was grey, flecked with white. In his hand was a steamy cup of coffee and he was wearing a white shirt, boxers and socks in his feet, probably going to work.

I stood there, staring at him with fear in my eyes. When he saw my expression, his face fell.

"What? Aren't you going to snap at me?" His tone was surprised, but the moment I saw it, it was gone. His face was now blank, expressionless.

I still didn't reply. My breathing was calm, but I could feel my heart pounding. I was shocked, confused. I stepped back, afraid of him. Afraid of what was happening. Afraid of everything.

"Who are you?" I finally found my voice, but turned into a silent whisper. The tears were on the verge of my eyes, threatening to spill. "Where am I? Who am I?"

He gave me a confused look. "What the heck are you talking about?" Then he paused, and mocked laugh. "You're kidding me, right? Nice one, kid, but it didn't work on me."

"Who are you?" I tried again, louder this time. "And who am I?"

"It's not working. Try that to your mother. Maybe she'll believe you."

"I said who are you?" I was growing impatient now. "And who am I?"

He studied me for a minute, and then called his wife.

The wife came, an apron tied around her neck. Her hair was blonde, cut short just up to her shoulders. She looked to be in her thirties, but she looked young for her age. "Yes, dear?" she asked her husband, wiping her hands as she said so. She turned to look at me. "Oh, honey! I just cooked your favourite meal! Wear some shirt, son. You do know I don't like you being like your father here." She nudged the man beside her and smiled.

"Who are you two? And who am I?"

And just like that, the woman's smile vanished. She looked at me, and then at her husband, her face now reflecting her husband's. "What is going on here?"

"Your son kept on asking who I am and who he is. Take care of him. I'm tired of his old jokes." He patted her shoulder, handing the situation to her, before walking away.

When the man was now out of sight, she turned to face me, waiting for my explanation.

"Explain to me what is happening," I asked the woman in front of me, my heart not skipping a beat.

"Son, you're Mark Smith. And we are your parents." Her voice was calm and soft.

It took for a while for the information to register in my mind. Mark Smith. It was the name of my greatest rival at school. But..it didn't make sense! All of these didn't make sense!

I shook my head. "You're kidding me."

"Mark..." She put her hands on my shoulder, but I cut her off.

"You're kidding me!"

And I dashed off.

I heard them call my name—if that was even my name—but I didn't look back. I kept running to an unknown direction, to an unknown life, but I didn't care for now.  I am unknown. All I want to do was to get away from that house.

When I turned left and into an alley, I could see a small group of men at the far end, each of which had skateboards in hand. When they saw me, they all smiled.

"Hey, dude."

"What's up?"

"So, another match? I'll make sure this time I'll beat you."

But I didn't smile back. I ignored all of their callings and continued to run like I haven't heard them. I am not Mark! I am...but I don't know who I am either. Who am I? Is this really me? I have many questions in mind, all of which remained unanswered.

My feet raced across the concrete floor. There were a couple of people who stopped to give me death glares as I pushed them away. I stopped to catch my breath.  A young man who looked to be in his early teenage years was staring at me. I saw myself—or Mark—on a smooth glass of a pet store. The person I was seeing was not my own. His hair was ink black and was raised upwards in an orderly fashion; his skin was soft, but you could see how muscled he was. On his right arm was a tattoo of an animal I couldn't figure out. This is not me....I looked down at my hands. I closed it into fists--fists that used to punch anyone who gets in Mark's way. It was different. It was unbelievable. I must be dreaming, I thought, and I closed my eyes shut and opened them again. Nothing. I am still Mark. The person who I loathed the most. The one who had humiliated me in front of the school.

I could feel my feet sprinting again, and each step I took became heavier and heavier. The landscape around me started to change. The buildings and houses continued to lessen as I moved on, and the city noise fainted and became distant until it became nothing but silence. I stopped on my tracks. I was already in the middle of the road that would lead me out of the city. My feet were tired and sore. My head was spinning. My breathing was heavy. Everything happened so fast.

What the hell was happening?