## Chapter 2 An Echo in the Mind
A heavy, suffocating numbness held Rohan under. Then came the smell—sharp, biting antiseptic—and the rhythmic, metallic beep of a heart monitor ticking away near his ear.
He forced his eyelids open. The harsh glare of fluorescent hospital lights struck his retinas like a physical blow, forcing his eyes instantly shut. His tongue tasted like copper, dry and glued to the roof of his mouth.
*Where am I?* The question fractured in his mind, bringing the pieces of the night back with it.
The underground arena. The roar of the bloodthirsty crowd. He had been trading heavy blows with that brute, Skull Crusher, holding his own. Then, a blinding, unnatural white light had erupted from the man's palm.
Rohan remembered locking down his own insight, hesitating to unleash his powers in front of a stadium full of witnesses. Then, the light had touched him, and the world went black.
A sudden, white-hot spike of agony pierced his temples, far worse than any physical punch.
Rohan gasped, his spine arching off the mattress. He rolled violently onto his side, grabbing the stiff hospital sheets as his knuckles turned white.
"Damn it! Why does it hurt so much?" he choked out, the words tearing from his throat.
Through the throbbing pressure in his skull, an alien tide of memories rushed into his mind. They weren’t his. Jagged images of unfamiliar streets, faces he had never seen, and raw, phantom emotions blurred together, locking his muscles completely rigid.
Rohan froze, staring blankly at the beige wall as the agonizing rush slowly receded into a dull, pulsing ache. *What the hell are these memories?*
The heavy door clicked open, and a flurry of hurried footsteps rushed into the room. A doctor in a white coat led a small team of nurses to his bedside, their eyes darting to the spiking heart monitor.
"Are you okay? Why are you shouting?" the doctor asked, his hands quickly checking the IV line. "Is there a sudden spike in pain somewhere?"
Rohan swallowed hard, the sudden, intense attention making his skin prickle with awkwardness. "No, no. It's okay," he muttered quickly, trying to smooth over his panic. "Just a passing headache."
The door pushed open again, cutting off the doctor. His parents burst into the room, their faces pale.
"Then why were you screaming?" his mother, Anjali, demanded. Her voice was sharp with authority, but her eyes were wide with terror.
Rohan deflated instantly under her gaze, his defensive posture melting away. "I just... it hit me right when I woke up," he said weakly, looking down at the blanket.
"That is to be expected," the doctor countered, adjusting the drip. "Your brain took a significant impact from the shockwave. The trauma causes lingering pressure."
Vikram, Rohan’s father, stepped forward. His expression was a mask of calm, rigid control, though his eyes scanned Rohan for injuries. "Doctor, could you give us a moment? We want to have some alone family time."
"Of course," the doctor nodded, gesturing for the staff to follow him out. The heavy door clicked shut, sealing them in silence.
The moment the latch engaged, Anjali threw her arms around Rohan, pulling him into a tight, trembling embrace that smelled of her familiar perfume.
"I already told you," she whispered fiercely against his shoulder. "You didn't need to go to an underground fighting arena for experience. It is best to hire a professional coach instead of putting your life on the line!"
"Mom, it wasn't that dangerous," Rohan mumbled, his voice muffled by her shoulder. "Dad was right there in the front row. He could have protected me very easily."
"But what if that superpower had a permanent, lethal effect?" Anjali pulled back, her glare cutting over to her husband. "At that time, your dad wouldn't have been able to protect you."
Vikram sighed, his shoulders stiffening under the weight of her words. He walked closer to the bed, looking down at his son. "Next time something like that happens, Rohan, do not care about showing the use of a power in public. Protect yourself first."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a serious, commanding tone. "Your mom and I will take care of the aftermath of a public manifestation. Your life comes first. Do you understand?"
Rohan nodded silently, feeling the weight of his father's protective resolve.
"So, how are you feeling now?" Anjali asked, her hand brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "What was the actual effect of his power?"
Before Rohan could answer, a sharp, electronic ring cut through the room. Vikram pulled his phone from his coat pocket, glanced at the screen, and quickly pressed it to his ear.
"Speak, Arjun," Vikram said.
A crisp, clear voice filtered through the receiver, loud enough for Rohan to catch every word in the quiet room. "We ran a quick check on the brute, Skull Crusher. His power just awakened."
Vikram's brows knit together. "What is the nature of it?"
"They call it 'Memory Chaos,'" Arjun explained. "Probably because it’s a fresh awakening, it’s unrefined. The only thing he can do is cause temporary chaos in the short-term memory of another person. And it only works when the light from his hand touches someone."
Vikram let out a visible sigh of relief, his rigid shoulders dropping slightly. "Thank you for the help, Arjun. I owe you one."
"It's no problem. Rohan is also my nephew," Arjun said, a smile evident in his voice. "Just treat me to dinner."
"Why don't you come to our house tomorrow with your family instead?" Vikram suggested. "It was Rohan's birthday today, but we obviously can't make it happen because of his injuries. Anjali and I plan to celebrate tomorrow."
"Haha, I'd definitely come with my family," Arjun said warmly. "We'll see you tomorrow then. Let the kid rest."
"Definitely. Thanks again." Vikram cut the call and slid the phone back into his pocket.
"What was it?" Anjali asked nervously, her eyes shifting between her husband and her son.
"Arjun investigated the superpower Skull Crusher awakened," Vikram replied, trying to sound reassuring. "He has the power to cause chaos in the memories of others. It shouldn't have any long-term effect on anyone, especially since his power just awakened."
Anjali let out a sharp, irritated breath, turning her anger back on Vikram. "How can you be so irresponsible? A fresh awakening makes it worse, not better!"
Vikram blinked, an awkward, bewildered expression crossing his face. "What do you mean?"
Rohan spoke up, desperate to break the rising tension between his parents. "When someone first awakens their superpower, Mom, they usually use their power in unusual, volatile ways."
He looked at his father, a faint, self-deprecating smile on his lips. "Did you forget when I awakened my superpower? The laser beams came straight out of my eyes and cut our whole house into two parts. I haven't been able to channel that much raw energy since."
A brief flash of that childhood terror crossed Rohan's mind—the smell of burning ozone, the sound of tearing concrete, and the absolute panic of not being able to close his eyes.
Vikram rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing with sheepish realization. "Right... I forgot about that."
"When someone awakens," Rohan continued, his voice grounded and steady, "all the latent energy that has been storing up in their body before the awakening is used in a single, uncontrolled instant. It has terrifying consequences. If someone with earth-control awakens, they can cause a large earthquake by accident. It's the same for any superpower."
The room fell completely still. Vikram and Anjali exchanged a heavy, worried look, the reality of the danger finally sinking in. They turned back to Rohan, speaking simultaneously.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm okay," Rohan said firmly, meeting their eyes.
Anjali narrowed her eyes, scanning his face, tracking the slight tightness around his jaw. "You are definitely not okay."
"I am," Rohan insisted, keeping his voice deadpan and steady. "Look at me. Even my memory has not been put into chaos. I know exactly who I am."
Anjali studied him for a few more agonizing seconds before finally letting out a long, defeated sigh. She squeezed his hand one last time. "Fine. But you stay in this bed until the doctor clears you."
Vikram nodded in agreement, giving Rohan's shoulder a firm press. "We'll go handle the discharge paperwork and speak with the specialist. Rest up, son."
Rohan forced a reassuring smile, holding it steady until his parents finally turned and exited the room. The heavy wooden door clicked shut, sealing him in absolute solitude.
The smile dropped from Rohan's face instantly.
He slumped back into the pillows, staring up at the white ceiling tiles as the quiet hum of the hospital room closed in. He raised his left hand, pressing his palm firmly against his throbbing temple.
His memories weren't in chaos. That much was true.
But beneath his own thoughts, a completely foreign, second timeline of memories sat heavy, crystal-clear, and locked inside his brain.