The Threads That Bind Us: An AntiSepticEye Origin Story

Chapter Eight

Jack and Robin sat at the kitchen table with a lone overhead light illuminating the dark house. Signe was out with friends, unaware of today's events, giving them plenty of time to sort out the mess that had been made.

All was quiet, except for Jack stirring his cup of tea – occasionally glancing at Robin in passive-aggressive contempt. His friend leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed, struggling to decide where he should begin his explanation.

"So how long have you've been lying to me?" Jack broke the silence.

"I wasn't trying to lie to you, Sean. I just..." Robin sighed in frustration. "It's a lot more complicated than that."

"You've been working with a psychopathic ghost who plans to destroy my life and take it for himself... but you just failed to mention it?"

"Look, if I didn't care about your well-being, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to figure out how to explain all of this."

"Then go ahead. I don't think much can surprise me as this point," Jack remarked. "But can you please explain to me how you thought it would be a good idea to team up with some knife-obsessed dead guy with a vendetta?"

"I'm dead, Sean..." Robin replied.

Jack's eyes widened. He actually could be surprised.

"...But not quite, thanks to him," Robin continued, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't know, ok? I was desperate and... not thinking clearly. He's cleverer than you think."

"Alright," Jack replied in a calmer tone.

"I come from a reality much different than this one. In a brief moment, my life had changed forever. Every morning I woke up and hoped it was all just a nightmare. I couldn't find a way to fix it... and that's when I met him..."

~~~

The doctor looked out the window of the hospital's fourth floor. A young man sat in a wheelchair in front of him, his brow scrunched with frustration... nearing dejection.

"Please, you are the last doctor on the list who is qualified to perform this surgery," he said. "I'll sign my life away, my rights, everything, if you would just give it a chance."

The doctor faced him once again with remorse, "Mr. Torkar, I'm sorry."

"You don't understand," Robin contested. "I accept the potential complications-"

"No, you don't understand," the doctor interrupted in a stronger tone. "The surgery is risky at best, and after reviewing the images of your spine, you wouldn't even qualify as a candidate. I cannot in good conscience clear you for operation."

"I'm not looking for 'good conscience' right now, Dr. Roberts," Robin paused. "...Death couldn't be much worse than this."

The doctor's eyes darkened upon hearing the last sentence. He shook his head in remorse.

"I'm... truly sorry," he said. "But if I can make any suggestion regarding your condition, I advise you to look into seeing a therapist. You're trying to cope with the aftermath of a life-altering situation. You need support more than anything else."

"I've already gone to three."

The doctor sighed, nearing the end of his patience, "Then I cannot say anything more. This ultimately rests in your hands, Mr. Torkar. Your outcome is what you make it... Just know I wish you the best."

He walked away, soon disappearing down the hall. Robin lowered his face to the palm of his hand, heavy with discouragement.

He sat there, perfectly still. One name after another rushed through his head – each of them had already told him "no". Six months of recovery, therapy, research, and consultations... yet it all lead to dead end after dead end.