To the states

Chapter 7

Harry's surgery finishes and Ginger nods toward him, prompting you to go over. As you approach, he has a wild look in his eye. "Who are you?" He looks around. "Where am I?"

You introduce yourself. "You were shot, you're in a rehabilitation facility. Do you remember anything about what happened before you were shot?"

"No, I—" His eye darts around the room again. "Why— why can I only see out of one eye?" His breathing starts coming faster.

"Hey, I need you to take a few deep breaths for me, yeah? Come on, in..." You breathe in, signaling for him to mimic you. It takes a minute, but he concedes. "Right, good. And out. Do that a few more times for me."

He does, and after he has a hold of himself, he sits still and murmurs his thanks. "Please tell me what happened, dragging this out won't do anyone any good."

"I actually don't know what happened. We found you outside a hate church, shot in the head, through the eye. You were the only one we could save. Besides that, Everyone in the church was dead. It looks like you came out unscathed, only to meet a bullet by someone else's hand."

He blinks for a moment. "I don't know why I'm surprised. Violence against gay people isn't rare. I have no idea how I stumbled onto the grounds of a hate church, but— I suppose you never think it'll happen to you until it does. I presume I'm lucky to be alive."

"I know it's a lot to take in. You mentioned violence against gay people. Are you gay, is that the only reason you think someone would target you?"

"I assumed that was implied."

"Just clarifying." He looks nervous, so you continue. "This is a safe place. No one is going to judge you here."

He nods. "I figured if I could say it anywhere, it would be a medical facility. But thank you."

"Of course."

He nods. "Have you called my mother?"

"No, we don't have any information on you."

"They took my wallet too?"

"We looked you up and the I.D. you had was fake."

"That's ridiculous. I don't have a—"

"Hey, it's okay. We aren't the police and we aren't going to call them. Your health and safety are all we care about. Tell me your name, and who to call, and we'll get this sorted."

"Oh, I didn't— how rude of me. My name is Harry Hart." He rattles off an address and phone numbers of his family.

"Alright, I'm going to move you to another room so you're more comfortable and I'll look everything up for you."

He nods. "Thank you." He pauses. "I— your accent is strange, where are you from?"

You let out a laugh. "I'm from London too. One of my moms was American and I've been here over two years now."

"One of your mums?"

"Yeah, they were married."

He stares at you in disbelief. "I'm sorry, what year is it?"

You furrow your brows. "2014, why?"

"You don't happen to be shitting me, do you?"

"Harry, what year do you think it is?"

"1984." He sits there for a long moment. You have no idea what to say. "I thought it looked an odd sort of futuristic in here."

"Harry I'm so sorry."