Chapter 4: This Isn't a Dream
1303 Words
That evening, Ethan left the university.
He didn't go straight home.
Ever since he found the address of Riverside Private Clinic in the old records, one question had stayed with him.
Why had Whitmore been investigating Claire?
If it was simply because she had disappeared, the police records should have been enough.
But Whitmore had clearly looked into something more.
And what bothered Ethan most was the time.
7:45 p.m.
The time Claire had been scheduled to see Alan Mercer.
And the time Whitmore had written down:
7:30 p.m.
That was the last time Claire had been seen.
And Where did Claire go after that?
It took a little over ten minutes to get there.
It was close to eight when he arrived at the address listed in the records.
Riverside Private Clinic was gone.
The original building was still there, but from the outside it looked empty.
A new sign hung above the entrance.
Through the glass windows, there was no trace of the old clinic.
Ethan parked across the street.
He got out and stood there for a moment.
Eight years ago, this place must have looked different.
He had no idea what it had looked like then.
All he could do was compare the address with the records and make sure he had come to the right place.
Ethan walked toward the building.
The front door was locked.
He looked through the glass.
The first floor appeared to be an office that had already closed for the night.
There were still a few lighter patches on the walls.
Places where something had once been mounted.
Ethan took out his phone.
He opened the file again.
Claire Morgan.
October 14, 2009.
7:45 PM.
Alan Mercer.
Ethan looked up.
He noticed a narrow passage beside the building.
He walked around the side.
There was an old door at the back.
Most of the paint had peeled away.
Beside it was a rusted metal plaque.
Ethan crouched down.
The lettering had faded badly.
But he could still make it out.
RIVERSIDE PRIVATE CLINIC
Ethan reached out and wiped the dust from the metal.
The instant his fingers touched it—
Everything changed.
…
Rain.
Heavy rain.
Ethan was standing in a narrow hallway.
The lights were dim.
The walls were gray-white.
There was a faint smell of disinfectant in the air.
A nurse walked past him.
Ethan instinctively moved aside.
The nurse passed straight by, as if she hadn't seen him at all.
Ethan froze.
He looked down at his hands.
They were still there.
So was the rest of him.
But this clearly wasn't the present.
A clock on the wall read:
7:52 PM.
Ethan stared at the time.
And suddenly, he realized something.
This wasn't a dream.
He wasn't asleep.
He could smell the disinfectant.
He could hear shoes against the floor.
He could feel the cold air coming from the end of the hallway.
It was too real.
Too real to explain away as a hallucination.
Ethan didn't move.
He simply watched.
A few minutes passed.
Then a woman appeared at the end of the hallway.
Red sweater.
Dark brown hair.
Ethan recognized her immediately.
Claire.
She stepped out of an examination room, holding a folder.
She looked tired.
Someone at the front desk called out to her.
“Ms. Morgan.”
Claire turned.
“Is there something else?”
“The doctor said you could wait a little longer.”
Claire shook her head.
“No. I'm fine.”
She glanced at the clock.
Then started toward the exit.
Ethan watched her.
She was really leaving.
Then—
A man's voice came from the other end of the hallway.
“Claire.”
She stopped.
Ethan turned.
A man in a white coat was standing there.
He looked to be in his forties.
He was holding a file.
Ethan's eyes went to the man's chest.
A white identification badge was clipped above the pocket of his coat.
Several lines were printed on it.
ALAN MERCER, M.D.
NEUROLOGY
Ethan froze.
Alan Mercer.
The same name from the records.
Mercer walked a few steps closer.
“Can you come over here for a minute?”
Claire looked at him.
“Is there something else?”
“About the examination.”
Mercer's voice was calm.
“There’s something I want to go over with you.”
Claire was silent for a few seconds.
“Now?”
“It won't take long.”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
Mercer turned.
Claire followed him.
Ethan followed them too.
They walked down the hallway and stopped at a door.
Mercer opened it.
Claire went inside.
Mercer followed.
The door closed.
Ethan stood outside.
He looked at the clock on the wall.
8:05 PM.
His breathing stopped for a moment.
So that's what it was.
At 8:05, Claire was still inside the clinic.
She hadn't left.
At least, the memory he'd just witnessed proved that.
But then—
The image began to blur.
The hallway lights flickered.
The sounds grew more distant.
Ethan tried to see what was happening inside the office.
But he couldn't see anything.
Then—
Everything disappeared.
…
Ethan suddenly came back to himself.
He was still crouched beside the old clinic.
His hand was still resting on the cold metal plaque.
The night air moved through the passage.
The street was quiet.
Ethan stood there without moving.
After a long moment, he slowly pulled his hand away.
He looked down at it.
For the first time, he didn't tell himself it had been a hallucination.
He didn't tell himself it had been a dream.
Because he finally understood—
He had seen the past.
Not imagination.
Not a dream.
Not a hallucination caused by exhaustion.
When he touched that object, what he experienced was—
something it had once witnessed.
Ethan's breathing quickened.
He thought about the night before.
The photograph.
The red sweater.
8:17.
And the man.
“Weren't you supposed to be dead?”
If what he'd seen tonight was real…
then what he'd seen last night might have been real too.
But why?
Ethan took out his phone.
He opened his notes.
His finger hovered over the screen for a few seconds.
Then he typed:
October 14, 2009
7:52 PM — Claire was preparing to leave.
The next line.
Alan Mercer stopped her.
Then another.
8:05 PM — Claire entered Mercer's office.
Ethan stopped.
He stared at the last line.
Then he opened the police record again.
There was only one simple description:
Claire was last confirmed near Riverside Private Clinic.
There was no specific time recorded for when she left.
No one knew where she had gone afterward.
Ethan slowly lowered the phone.
Now he understood.
The police knew Claire had gone to the clinic.
Whitmore knew it too.
But they might not have known one thing.
At 8:05, Claire was still inside.
And—
she had gone into the office with Alan Mercer.
Ethan looked up at the building.
It was completely dark inside.
Whatever had happened eight years ago had been buried by time.
But Ethan had just seen part of it.
Only part.
The memory had stopped at the moment that mattered most.
After the office door closed—
what happened?
Ethan didn't know.
But for the first time, he truly understood.
What he had wasn't simply some strange ability.
It was a way of touching the past.
Where that ability came from—
he didn't know.
What else it might allow him to see—
he didn't know that either.
Ethan looked at the rusted metal plaque one last time.
Then he turned and walked away.
Tonight, he had found one real clue.
8:05 PM.
Claire was still inside Riverside Private Clinic.
And Alan Mercer was the last person seen with her.
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