Before
Connor was walking down a narrow alley-way just three streets away from his home. He was going to the supermarket to buy groceries for dinner. The time was nearing 8 o'clock. A couple of homeless men dressed in old, discoloured clothes were smoking cigarettes. They were sitting next to a few of the bins in the alley. One of them had a small backpack of what probably contained a packet of cigarettes and a bag of any food that they could possibly scavenge. Connor started to walk quicker as to not disturb these suspicious men.
A while later, he exited the supermarket and walked home with six overflowing bags of heavy groceries on his arms. The plastic handles of the bags were digging into his palms and fingers. He tried to avoid the two men by taking the long way back which meant walking along the main road.
Connor turned the corner onto the busy road, dropped the bags on the bench of a bus shelter to stretch his tired fingers. After a minute he picked up the bags again and started walking but found himself face to face with one of the old men from the alley way. Connor dropped the bags, about to run, when another of the men came up from behind him and put his hand over Connors mouth. He screamed when he felt a sharp prick in his neck. The last thing he saw was the man from behind pull a pillow case over his head before he slumped to the floor, out cold.
3 years later
Connor awoke in a bed that did not feel like his. He felt like he had been sleeping for a life time. He looked down and saw tubes stuck into his arms, pumping a see through blue liquid from a bag just above his head. He was wearing a rather flimsy hospital robe that made him quite cold. His legs felt funny like he hadn't used them for ages. He stretched and felt the joints in his arms and legs groan in protest. He yawned and the taste in his mouth almost made him gag. He spotted a glass of water on a desk beside his bed and downed it in three gulps.
He looked around the room and saw a few posters and pictures on the wall that did not match the blindingly white paint that lined the walls. He went to scratch his face but noticed how big his hands were. He looked at his feet and saw that they were at least 2 sizes bigger than what he remembered.
A door in the far corner of the small room opened and a lady, maybe in her early 40's, with glasses, a very white lab coat and a clip board entered. She shut the door and slid a card through the card reader on the door locking it, making the little light on the side turn from green to red.
"Hello, Mr Ridges. I am Dr Holden. I am just here to ask you a few questions," she said in an accent Connor did not recognise.
"Um, oka-" he broke off and cleared his voice. He frowned and was about to ask why his voice sounded different, deeper, but Holden cut him off by asking:
"How old are you?"
Connor found this question quite stupid, frankly, as he automatically spoke the answer.
"Sixteen. Why does my voice sound different? What is going on?"
Dr Holden shook her head and smiled softly. "What year is it?"
Connor's eyebrows furrowed, "It's 2014. Why are you asking me these questions?"
"Because you are wrong, Connor. Those men injected you with a liquid that puts you in a coma for the rest of your life. But one of our doctors, luckily, was driving by you and took you here where we used the unfinished remedy on you."
Connor shook his head at her. "This is a joke."
"I'm being serious. You are nineteen and it is the year of 2017. Take a look in that hand mirror in the top drawer." Dr Holden pointed to the desk beside the uncomfortable hospital bed.
Connor took a shaking hand and opened the drawer. He saw a hand gun, a bottle of sleeping pills, a pair of scissors and a hand mirror. He took the mirror out with unsteady hands and took a look with sleepy eyes.
He gasped and saw in the time three years took, he had a mop of greasy, almost ear length hair. He turned his head and inspected the stronger, sharper jaw line and almost admired the dark stubble that sprinkled his cheeks. His lips were slightly fuller and a few pimples scattered the start of his hair line. The only thing that he was confused about was the small bandage above his eyebrow that had a small amount of fresh blood seeping through.
He touched the cut on his eyebrows sunk.
"Why do I have this?" Connor asked and looked up at Holden.
"We'll get to that later. But for now, get some rest." her face turned serious as she spoke again. "And don't even think about leaving the premises otherwise you will face the consequences. It's for your own good. If you do, however, leave then your family will also suffer."
The monitor connected to his pulse on the side of the bed started to race which made the room erupt in annoyingly loud beeps. He raised his hand to his head to try to stop the dull throb in the front of his brain. Dr Holden pressed a button that Connor assumed to be a pump of medicine. Seconds later, he was asleep.
Connor woke again two hours later with a small headache. The room was dark and the only light was coming through the crack at the bottom of the door. Connor sat up and held on to the rails of the bed as to steady himself. The tubes in his arms were gone and the light on the door was green. There were two rectangle painkillers and another glass of water on the desk so he swallowed them.
Connor threw his legs over the side of the bed and placed his feet on the cool tiles. He held onto the rail of the bed and pushed himself up. He took a minute to steady himself. He also realised that he had grown at least a foot and a half in the past three years.
He took a step and stopped. When he didn't feel that dizzy, he walked to the door and pushed it slightly. It clicked and opened a crack. He pushed again so that the door was half way open. He peaked around and looked down the hall. There were trolleys with assorted needles and medicine, a mop and bucket next to a door labelled "Janitor's Closet" and other doors that led to other patients' rooms with their names and room numbers printed in small-ish letters.
The room across from him caught his eye. The name on the door said Ingrid Ridges. Connor's mum. He walked across quickly and tried to see through the frosted glass window on the door. His hand went straight to the door handle. He hesitated but pushed so the door opened. He looked inside and saw his mum, limp and pale in the dim light coming from the hall. A bandage was wrapped around her torso and a steady beat fell from the speakers of the heart rate monitor. Connor put a hand to his mouth and swallowed down a sob.
"They said you'd be awake." A voice said behind him. He turned around and a tall girl with long blonde hair and green eyes stood in his way. She handed him a shirt, trousers, socks and underwear and shoes. When her hands were free, she reached behind her then pulled out a gun. "Get changed. You are coming with me."
