Chapter 10 no other choice
Dora glanced up from the pages of the book resting on her lap when she sensed someone approaching quickly in her direction. The person slowed as they got close enough. She looked up to find Vanessa stopping beside her bed. She was bent slightly at the waist, drawing in ragged breaths as though she had sprinted all the way there without stopping, which she had. Strands of straight hair clung to her damp forehead, and her chest rose and fell rapidly. Her eyes were wide and frantic, carrying the unmistakable look of someone propelled by urgency rather than mere haste.
A faint crease formed between Dora's brows. Confusion flickered across her face, quickly followed by irritation as she wondered what could possibly cause the girl to come running like that.
"What do you want?" Dora demanded sharply. Ever since the little exchange at their classroom the previous week, a quiet animosity toward Vanessa had taken root in her. The edge in her glare made it clear she had not forgotten.
"It's... Robert," Vanessa managed between breaths.
Dora's scowl vanished. Her eyes narrowed as she searched Vanessa's face. Something was wrong. Vanessa looked genuinely shaken. In one quick motion, Dora set her book aside, swung her legs off the bed and rose to her feet, concern rapidly overtaking every trace of irritation in her demeanor.
Vanessa felt a flicker of relief at that reaction. She had half-expected stubborn denial or worse, a barrage of impulsive what-have-you-done-to-him accusations. She and a few other students who cared enough had witnessed Robert being escorted into the minibus. The sight had alarmed her enough to come straight to Dora, hoping for an explanation. Dora was Robert's girlfriend, after all. Surely she would know something—perhaps there had been some prior arrangement with the principal or something.
"What about Robert?" Dora pressed urgently. She could already feel her heartbeat quickening. "He's downstairs with principal Carve. Did he do anything? What happened?"
"You... you didn't see?"
"See what? Is he okay?"
Vanessa couldn't even begin to think of what to answer. "I... I'm not sure. He... he was just taken away in the school bus. Miss Greene went with him. Williams, Bouse—the principal—they all spoke to him first." Her hands lifted helplessly. "I'm worried they might have… I don't know… expelled him because of the whole 'hallucination' business."
Dora's body tensed.
For a brief, disorienting instant, she felt as though the floor beneath her feet had dissolved. She did not want to consider it. She did not even want to entertain the possibility, but the thought of Robert being expelled, vanishing from her life, never seeing him again, forced its way into her mind anyway.
The image overwhelmed her, drowning out every other thought until only two fragile words escaped her lips, barely audible.
"Oh no."
——————
The bus sped through the deserted streets of Axille, tyres humming against the asphalt as buildings and storefronts—mostly old and dilapidated—blurred past the windows. Inside, Robert sat rigid in his seat, his jaw locked tight and his lips pressed into a thin, troubled line. His reflection in the glass looked as puzzled as he felt. He replayed Poison's explanation over and over in his mind, yet the words refused to arrange themselves into anything sensible.
X-rays. Magic waves. Some sort of clash.
He turned the concepts around like mismatched puzzle pieces that simply would not fit. X-ray was science—measurable, observable, physical. Magic, on the other hand, was what? An old art? Legend? Something one could only see in movies nowadays. How could the two have anything to do with each other? How could they possibly interact?
"So you're telling me," Robert murmured again, lowering his voice as though afraid Miss Greene might overhear, "that if x-radiation were directed at me, it could… harm me?"
The bus jolted violently over a pothole, rattling the windows and punctuating his words.
"That there would be some sort of interference... a clash... between the x-ray's waves and these, uhh... magic waves that you say my body is emitting because you're possessing me. That this interference could disrupt the coherence of the... what did you call it again... magic energy, and make it to what? become chaotic and unstable—and that the result could be, at best, damage to my brain cells. Insanity?"
"Something like that," Poison replied evenly.
Robert let out a slow breath through his nose. "I hate to say this," he muttered, "but that sounds completely fabricated. You're sure this isn't one of your stories, Poison? Enlighten me if I'm missing something but I don't understand how x-rays—how science itself—and magic could possibly interact in any way."
There was a pause.
"You didn't just say that," Poison's tone was edged with restrained incredulity. "I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that."
"Maybe I did. Maybe I did, Poison. Cus..." a hollow, self-mocking chuckle escaped Robert, "right now... I am very confused."
Silence settled between them, and though it seemed contemplative, Robert was thinking of nothing at all, merely awaiting Poison's response.
"What do you know about magic, kid?" Poison asked calmly.
Robert's gaze drifted forward. He briefly focused on the two seated at the very front of the bus before looking away again, thoughtful. "I dunno..." He mumbled. "It's some sort of art practiced by wizards centuries ago." That sounded more like a hesitant guess than a statement.
"That's all?"
"Well, umm..." Robert shifted uncomfortably. "I know that the practice has been restricted. There are hardly any wizards left anymore, and the only ones around..." He clenched his teeth, embarrassed by his own words, "Probably... work... for... the... government."
Poison fell into what one could call a baffled silence. When he spoke, his voice was deeper and resigned. "That bad, huh?"
"Uhh..."
"From what I can gather from your memories," Poison continued carefully, "you've lived in this town your entire life. You've never stepped beyond Axille's boundaries. Not once."
"As far as I can remember."
"Well, that explains it. It's not your fault."
"What's your point, Poison?"
"Let's just say," Poison drawled, "that you've been living inside a very small, very sealed bubble. Not for long anyway." He paused briefly, as if deciding how much effort Robert was worth. "Fine, I'll simplify this whole thing for you. Tell me, have you, in all your years of schooling, ever heard of the Ntor particle?"
Robert blinked. "Who hasn't? That's elementary science—eighth grade. Ntor particles are subatomic entities capable of altering the properties of atoms, mimicking the characteristics of any atom, and occupying space in anomalous ways," he recited. "We all had to memorize that. But what does the Ntor particle have to do with what we're talking about?"
Poison gave a dry, humorless scoff. "Ntor particle," he repeated, almost disdainfully. "That's merely the conveniently sterile name present-day scientists coined for what is actually Magic Energy."
"Magic energy?" Robert pressed his fingers to his temples, massaging them. If only he could physically knead the confusion out of his skull. "Poison, you're not helping. You're just confusing me more."
"Magic energy..." Poison muttered with an exasperated groan. "Okay, look, I don't have the luxury of giving you a foundational lecture right now. So just fix this in your mind: magic and science are not opposites. Magic energy is an integral entity in our world. A foundational force. It's intertwined with nature. Entirely. Do you understand?"
Still sensing Robert's confusion, he continued. "Don't think of magic as some sort of mysterious art. Think of it instead as a highly specialized branch of science, one that operates on barely understood principles. The way you have physics. Biology. Chemistry. Magic fits into that same framework, only its study has become restricted, more regulated. Much more than it once was in the old days before the war... but it's still common knowledge, everyone knows about it, how don't you?!" Poison's irritation sharpened. "Surely you must've been acquainted with it in some way, I mean, It's woven into the fabric of the world, Robert. It's completely integrated!"
Robert flushed. The reprimand stung far more than he expected. It felt uncomfortably personal.
"Your ignorance is the equivalent of someone claiming they've never heard of electricity simply because they spent their entire life in a remote countryside!"
Robert said nothing. He couldn't. He felt small. Stupid. Exposed. A dull embarrassment settled in his chest. Better to be ridiculed in class than this!
After a moment, Poison sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. "Look, I apologize... I'm sorry. Like I said, it's not your fault. But listen to me carefully now. I have extensive experience studying and manipulating various forms and manifestations of magic energy. I won't pretend I know everything about it, but I understand its behavior, the way it works. So believe me when I say that if a being saturated with magic energy—like you, because of me—is subjected to the intensity of radiation emitted by an x-ray machine, the aftermath is certain to be ugly."
"And if you're still struggling to accept that, then answer me this…" Poison continued quietly. "Why else would Oliver mention it? Why else would Williams persuade the principal—immediately after what we did at his apartment—to rush you off to the hospital?"
Those two questions sealed the deal for Robert. He gulped hard. The bus continued its relentless forward motion, the hum of the engine suddenly louder in his ears.
"So…" he began slowly, dread creeping into his voice, "you're saying I'm about lose my mind in a matter of minutes?"
"Or worse."
Robert swallowed again. His words quickened, panic rising like floodwater. "Are x-rays really that powerful? And how are they even supposed to interact with magic in the first place—"
"Say that one more time," Poison growled, "and you'd better hope I don't wreck you before the radiation gets the chance."
Robert's breath hitched. "Oh jeez…" He dragged a trembling hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do now?"
"That's what you should be asking. Well, I've got an idea," Poison quipped, his deep voice returning to its usual enthusiasm. "Why don't you use your—well, technically my—powers to disable this bus? Ruin the engine. Wreck it if you have to. If we do that, we buy ourselves time. Time to think. Time to fix this."
Robert's forehead tightened into a deep frown. He almost wondered whether Poison was joking.
Destroy the bus?
That was school property. Expensive school property. And even if he somehow managed to sabotage it, what then? With a call from Miss Greene, principal Carve would merely send another vehicle.
"Are you certain that's the smartest move right now?" he thought.
Poison's response came instantly. "You're seriously hung up on the idea of vandalizing a bus when your life is on the line?"
"Hey! You don't get to go snooping through my thoughts like that!"
Poison scoffed dismissively. "Well, I'll be honest," he said, "I didn't really think that one through."
"Clearly," Robert replied with a faint shake of his head. "Cus I honestly doubt that would work out entirely in our favor."
"Nothing ever works out entirely in anyone's favor, kid. But you're right; your principal would simply send another bus."
"Not only that. Let's think about it logically, Poison. If this pristine, perfectly functioning bus were to suddenly break down due to, what—'sand from nowhere flooding the engine'? Flooding the entire mechanism—right when it's taking me to the hospital, you really think Miss Greene wouldn't be more than just a bit suspicious?"
Poison gave a low, dry chuckle. "You might be surprised."
"No," Robert insisted. "That's not something that happens everyday... or ever. Miss Greene isn't naive. She'll connect all the dots, and once she does, she's gonna start watching me closely. Very, very closely. That would make everything worse." He exhaled slowly. "No. I think… I think I just have to let things play out."
Even as he said it, the admission tasted bitter.
Maybe—or rather, hopefully—Poison would turn out to be wrong about the whole radiation-magic thing.
A quiet heaviness settled over him, the kind that seeps into your bones when you realize how little control you truly have. The engine's steady vibration beneath his feet felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else's journey. He leaned his head back against the seat, exhaustion creeping over him despite the storm of thoughts still circling in his mind.
Maybe if he closed his eyes—just for a moment—he could quiet everything.
Sleep came quicker than he expected.
He had only just begun drifting when the subtle lurch of the bus stopping stirred him. He opened his eyes to see Miss Greene standing in the aisle, her palm resting gently on his shoulder.
"We're here, Robert," she said softly.
He rubbed at his eyes and rose slowly. Miss Greene guided him out of the bus, and the cool air outside brushed against his face. He glanced around and saw they were in a parking lot; the hospital parking lot. His heart sank.
During that brief sleep, he had dreamed they never made it—that the bus had somehow turned around and taken him home instead. But reality loved disappointing.
"I suppose we should go inside," he murmured, forcing steadiness into his voice that he did not feel.
His stomach twisted painfully as he lifted his gaze to the building ahead: a vast, gleaming, five-storey structure of glass, concrete and steel. To him, it felt immense and cold, sterile and impersonal—less a place of healing and more a monument to doom.
He did not want to go in there.
The desperate thought came to just grab Miss Greene's hands and plead with her to just abandon the hospital visit. To take him back to school now and lie to the principal that he had been examined and cleared. But he already knew he'd only get more gentle reassuring words from her. No escape.
The building loomed.
And the hospital waited.
--------------
Meanwhile, in the quiet comfort of his apartment, Mr. Williams lounged on his sofa, a smug, relaxed smile stretching his features as he swirled a half-full crystal wine glass in one hand. The dark green liquid seemed to mirror his mood — sated, triumphant, and quietly simmering with anticipation. His plan was coming together perfectly. The fact that Robert and his ancestor-soul had the audacity to attack him would soon be their undoing!
He pressed his cheek, making it lean into the gap left by the molar he'd just lost. The pain refreshed his resentment and to him, it justified everything that was about to happen.
However, buried beneath that resentment, Williams refused to acknowledge the sharper truth gnawing at the edge of his thoughts: that what drove him wasn't revenge but infuriated disappointment. After so many fruitless years, he had finally found one. Even knowing the odds of it being the one he truly sought were thirteen to one, he had placed every hope on that single, fragile possibility.
Still, he pushed the thought aside.
A low, amused chuckle slipped from his lips as he lifted the glass and took a slow sip.
Really… how had he managed to pull it off so neatly again?
The rumours among the student body had proven most convenient—rumours that Robert had been acting oddly, that he was often seen muttering to himself. Leveraging those rumours, Williams had managed to persuade the principal just after the incident with Poison, that the boy might be exhibiting signs of a deteriorating mental condition. To sharpen the urgency, he had reported—quite convincingly—that he himself had been attacked by… something unknown. With a little push, the decision was made: Robert would be sent off to the school doctor immediately for medical evaluation, before his "condition worsened."
But, of course, Williams didn't do this out of concern, and this wasn't going to be just any hospital visit — nope, just step one in his plan!
The destination? Heiss General Hospital—the closest medical facility to Solar Springs High School. And there Doctor Roy Wizzlehette, the school's appointed medical officer, practiced. But how was he part of Williams's plan?
Oh, the doctor had a quite unfortunate past with Mr. Williams. And that past had leashed him to the teacher ever since. So, yes, Wizzlehette was part of the plan. Not willingly, of course, but by leverage. And soon, Robert would be under his care. Exactly where Williams wanted him.
You see, years ago, a sweet stroke of fortune—or fate—had handed Mr. Williams an ace. On one particularly damning afternoon, good ol' Doctor Wizzlehette had been caught on film, mid-surgery, delicately slicing a sliver of liver from a young male patient under anesthesia—an 8th grader from Solar Springs who had accidentally swallowed his locker key. In the recording, the doctor had paused momentarily to touch the bloody liver piece against his tongue before quickly tucking it into his breast pocket under his lab coat and resuming his work.
And who, one might ask, had recorded such an incriminating moment?
A certain teacher who'd heard disturbing rumours about the school doctor's taste for the unthinkable. That certain teacher had been assigned to remain in the hospital until the procedure concluded and the boy stabilized, and he decided to use that assignment to do a little investigation on the doctor—keeping his phone camera running, just in case.
Well, that "just in case" became the blackmail gold mine Mr. Williams would hold on to ever since. A very short leash.
Now, two years later, that very same teacher (Mr. Williams, of course!) was finally pulling the leash. He had just contacted the doctor. Not to threaten to expose him—he had no need for that—but to deliver an instruction. To ensure that a certain boy from the high school, soon to arrive at Heiss General Hospital, was given an x-ray scan.
Why?
Williams knew what would come after that scan would be anything but pleasant... and he couldn't wait to watch it all happen!
But something about the whole situation did not sit right with Williams. How had Oliver known that an x-ray scan would be harmful to Robert? Because Oliver had been the one who suggested it to him, and in the most disturbing time and manner possible. It was highly unlikely to be a coincidence.
No… the boy knew something. He had to.
Perhaps he even knew about Robert's condition. But why would he want the boy to be harmed?
Whatever the case, Mr. Williams made a quiet decision to keep a close eye on Oliver from then on. He might prove to be far more troublesome than he was worth.
--------------
Robert and Miss Greene now sat at the office of Solar Springs' appointed medical officer, stationed at Heiss General Hospital, Doctor Roy Wizzlehette.
The doctor was seated across from them in a cushioned armchair that seemed to swallow his already frail frame. He was hunched over a clipboard, fervently scribbling notes with intense concentration. He wore a dull green long-sleeved shirt that hung loosely from narrow shoulders, the fabric doing little to conceal the sharp angles of his collarbones beneath. He appeared to be nearing sixty—thin, nearly to the point of gauntness, with a sparse, patchy scruff of a beard and a barren bald spot gleaming at the center of his otherwise frizzy scalp. Wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, constantly sliding downward.
Every so often, without breaking the rhythm of his writing, he would pause and rub the pads of his fingers beneath his eyes—slow, deliberate strokes that felt almost habitual, as if he were trying to wipe away a strain no one else could see. And each time he did it, his fingers lingered just a second too long before returning to the pen. Though barely noticeable, the doctor's focused demeanor exuded a bit of unease, as though he was silently struggling to make a tough decision.
Across from him, Robert sat stiffly, his annoyed glare sharp and deliberately conspicuous, directly squared at the doctor. Five long minutes had passed since he and Miss Greene had taken their seats, and the doctor had only bothered to ask Robert's name before directing all his focus on the clipboard.
Robert's fingers tightened slightly against the arms of his chair. He was growing restless. He forced his glare away from the doctor and at the room.
The office itself was unremarkable. It carried the usual smell of antiseptics Robert always found mildly nauseating. It felt smaller than it should, boxed in by two large filing cabinets and the doctor's modest desk. A skeletal model stood stiffly at a corner, one arm slightly loose at the socket, as if exhausted from decades of standing. The hum of the ventilation unit above was the only sound that accompanied the scratching of the doctor's pen.
At last, Wizzlehette looked up from his clipboard to Miss Greene with a spark of belated interest. If he was trying to hide that uneasy demeanor Robert had noticed, he was doing a good job. "So," he began in a dry, clinical voice, "Carve mentioned he's been experiencing hallucinations?" he asked.
Miss Greene gave a single, confirming nod. The doctor's eyes then flicked to Robert, tilting his head a bit to peer over the rim of his glasses and observe the boy for a brief second before straightening again.
"Very well. We'll conduct an X-ray scan to assess for abnormalities in his skull or brain." The doctor declared, looking away from Robert to Miss Greene as he finished the statement, as though the decision required no further discussion.
The words hit Robert like a sledgehammer.
An eerie shiver crept down his spine, and deep in his gut, a heavy, dreadful certainty began to settle. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. He turned slightly and caught the faint flicker of unease in Miss Greene's expression. She parted her lips to say something but the doctor's flat glance in her direction as soon as she did silenced her.
"It's your skull and brain that has problems, idiot!" Poison's soul was practically vibrating with agitation. How is it that the doctor had decided on the exact procedure they'd been dreading?! The exact one Oliver had said would be done! "Of course, he'd say this. It's obvious this whole thing's been prearranged. It's all a setup!"
"Don't get all worked up just yet," Robert calmed telepathically. "I've got one last card to play."
The doctor rose from his chair. "Alright, shall we head to the X-ray room?" he asked, retrieving his white coat from a nearby hanger and slipping it on as he moved toward the door.
Robert turned towards Miss Greene just as she began to stand, silently hoping to the skies that she would sense the desperation in his eyes. "Teacher... I'm scared," he confessed softly, with a trembling voice that barely held together.
"Really?" Poison scoffed. "This is your last card?"
"Shut it, I'm in the middle of something here," Robert snapped back internally.
Sensing his distress, Greene gently cupped his face in her palms, her touch warm and comforting against his skin. "It's alright. You'll be fine, X-rays don't hurt. It's completely safe, I promise," she said tenderly.
Under any other circumstances, such a gesture from Miss Greene would've spiralled Robert in a good mood for days—perhaps even weeks. But this time, her words did nothing but shatter every hope he had of avoiding the X-ray scan.
The faint hope he'd been clinging to fractured.
Robert's shoulders slumped, and the light in his eyes dimmed. He let out a heavy sigh, the sound of total resignation. Without another word, he forced himself up from the seat. With Miss Greene at his side, Robert took a reluctant step forward, inhaled as if bracing for impact, and followed the doctor out of the office.
"Kid, what do we do now?" Poison asked, voice stripped of its usual bravado.
This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Their symbiosis was supposed to be for life!
"You can't leave my body and return later, can you?" Robert asked wearily. His mind was so consumed by dread that he failed to notice the bustle of the hospital staff and patients passing by.
Poison let out a disheartened sound. "No, kid. We're pretty much stuck together until you kiss the dust."
"Well, I guess I have no choice but to be x-rayed, then."
Each step down the corridor felt deliberate. Final. As though he were walking calmly toward his own execution.