You slowly open your eyes, the surroundings unfamiliar yet oddly comforting.

It takes a moment to register that you're not in your own bed but in a hospital bed, your room transformed into a sterile, white space.

Your heart races, a mix of confusion and lingering fear pulsing through you as the memory of Vicente's motionless body floods back.

Now, one thought consumes you, pushing past the disorientation and the pounding in your chest...

Lysander: I need to find out if Vivi is okay.

You glance to your left and there's Yiannis, your big brother, slumped over in a chair, lost in sleep. As you shift to sit up straighter, an unusual sensation catches your attention.

Puzzled, you lift the edge of your robe only to discover you're wearing a diaper. Confusion and embarrassment flush through you.

Lysander: I’m way too old for this... No way I’m going anywhere like this.

Your mind races with the implications, the childlike garment at odds with your urgent need to find Vicente.

The thought of venturing out, of anyone seeing you in this state, solidifies your resolve to find a solution first.

You start checking your body, noticing various patches and wires connected to it. With a mix of curiosity and annoyance, you begin to peel them off one by one, the sticky residue tugging at your skin.

Each removal brings a small relief, but as you reach for the last patch, which looks different—more intricate and crucial—sirens suddenly blare, jolting the quiet of the room.

That startles both you and Yiannis; he wakes up abruptly, confusion etched on his face.

Lysander: Uh oh.

Almost instinctively, you leap from the bed, diving just in time to slide under it as the door bursts open and people rush into the room.

From your new vantage point, you hear the shuffle of feet and the murmuring of voices, the urgency in their tones clear.

Your position under the bed feels both ridiculous and necessary as you wait for the intruders to leave or discover your hiding spot.

Tension lingers in the air as footsteps shuffle around the room. You hear someone's voice, the tone sharp with urgency.

Person: Mister Laskaris, where's Lysander?

Yiannis pauses, his voice flat as he responds, his words floating to your hidden spot under the bed.

Yiannis: I don’t know.

The room begins to empty, the sound of footsteps and voices receding. You wait for a beat, gauging the silence, about to check if it’s safe to emerge.

Just then, Yiannis’s voice, tinged with amusement, reaches you, cutting through the quiet.

Yiannis: What are you doing under the bed?

As you begin to crawl out from under the bed, your voice carries a mix of concern and confusion.

Lysander: I need to find Vivi. How did you know I was under there?

From your position, you can't see Yiannis, but his voice comes through clearly, tinged with amusement.

Yiannis: You weren’t as fast or as discreet as you thought.

As you steady yourself with your hands on the bed, you cautiously lift just half of your head above the edge to peer at Yiannis.

Your eyes widen in surprise; though his cheeks are damp with tears, there's a big smile on his face—a sight that tugs at your heart with a mix of relief and concern.

Yiannis, still smiling, continues to speak, his voice a mix of amusement.

Yiannis: You should have hidden before taking that patch off.

Curiosity and concern knit your brows together as you watch the tears mingle with the smile on Yiannis's face.

Lysander: Why are you crying?

In response, Yiannis motions for you to come closer. You move toward him, the uncertainty clear in your hesitant steps.

When you reach him, he gently lifts you onto his lap and envelops you in a tight hug, his warmth and the steady beat of his heart somewhat grounding.

Yiannis, his voice soft but filled with emotion, begins to explain, the relief evident in his tone as he holds you close.

Yiannis: It’s been a little more than a month since you were in a coma. You're lucky you didn’t hurt yourself getting out of bed. These patches you found—they’re for people in comas.

Yiannis: They help keep the muscles from weakening so you can walk as soon as you wake up, no rehab needed unless there's another injury.

His words sink in slowly, mixing with the residual confusion and the stark realization of how much time has passed and how close you came to never waking up.

The revelation that you were in a coma for over a month hits you with unexpected force, overwhelming the strange calm that had settled over you.

Suddenly, the events of the earthquake—the fear, your bleeding back, the bewildering sensation of being hurled through the air—crash back into your consciousness.

Your body begins to shake as these memories flood in, each more vivid and terrifying than the last.

You bury your face in Yiannis’s chest, seeking comfort in the familiar scent and presence of your brother.

Tears spill freely, each one a release of the pent-up emotions you hadn’t even realized you were holding back.

Yiannis, sensing the depth of your turmoil, wraps his arms tighter around you, his hand soothingly rubbing your back.

Yiannis: Τα βγάλε όλα έξω, μικρέ. Είναι εντάξει να τα αφήσεις να βγουν./Ta vgále óla éxo, Mikrè. Eínai entáxei na ta afíseis na vgoun. Let it all out, little one. It’s okay to let it out.

His voice is a soft murmur, full of warmth and understanding.

The gentle rhythm of his hand on your back helps ground you as you navigate through the storm of emotions unleashed by his words and your own jumbled memories.

As the emotional storm begins to subside, a new wave of panic surges within you. The initial reason for your desperate awakening pushes through the fog of your recent turmoil.

Your voice is frantic, edged with urgency as you clutch at Yiannis's arm.

Lysander: αδερφός /Aderfós(bro), where's Vivi? Is he okay? Is he hurt?

Before you can gather your thoughts further, Yiannis opens his mouth to respond, but he's suddenly cut off. The door to your room swings open abruptly.

People clad in white coats step in, their presence stern and official. Their entrance pauses the conversation, shifting the atmosphere from one of emotional relief to clinical briskness.

Anxiety ripples through you as the medical team enters, each member clad in a pristine white coat that somehow seems to heighten the tension in the room.

You feel a momentary relief when they simply announce their need to examine you, their tones professional but not overly stern.

Yiannis places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his expression calm.

Yiannis: Take a deep breath, Mikrè(little one). Let them do their check-up, and we'll sort everything out about Vicente afterwards, okay?

Reluctantly, you nod, easing back onto the hospital bed with a mix of resignation and impatience.

The examination begins, and it feels invasive—probes, pokes, and pricks that remind you of a laboratory experiment.

You grit your teeth, enduring the discomfort while your mind races with thoughts of Vicente.

Finally, the medical team finishes their examination and exits the room, leaving a palpable silence behind. Yiannis watches them go, then turns to you, his face serious.

Yiannis: Okay, so, here’s what happened...

His voice trails off as the door clicks shut, leaving his words hanging in the air.

End of intro.