The Day A Human Died and Something Inhuman Took It's Place

The jog to the hospital took less time than I suspected even with the small stop for food I made but that was okay. I'd be able to see mother that much sooner, after all.

Upon entering the hospital, I walked to the receptionist working. It was one I knew quite well from my repeated visits over the past months. Smiling, I gave a small wave, "Hello, Melissa," I politely greeted the middle-aged Hispanic woman behind the desk. Melissa looked up from the forms she was checking through, her olive green eyes looking through her glasses at me.

Upon realizing who I was, her lips spread into a smile as she stood up to greet me, "Ah, Adam, is it 9:00 AM already?" she joking asked a question to which I politely chuckled before accepting the hug of the older woman.

She was...a kind person. Too kind for Gotham, at least.

When she found out I was only 15 and that my mother was diagnosed with inoperable, terminal cancer, she made it her personal mission to be as kind and warm to me as possible.

At first, I averse to it - who would readily accept some stranger's kindness? Especially in Gotham of all places. I'd seen kind old men turn out to be pedophiles or murderers or both. I'd even seen a young and beautiful young woman get arrested for being a cannibal who preyed exclusively on young and attractive teens. She lived two floors below me, so there's no doubt I would've eventually ended up on her list of 'what-to-eat'. She's just lucky the police got to her before she tried anything.

"As usual, it seems Gotham City General Hospital is being a slave driver, huh? Well, keep at it, Melissa," I continued smiling before signing my name into the visiting form, "I'll see you later. Take care," I said my goodbyes and walked away from the desk but not before hearing Melissa complaining about how right I was.

Smirking, I put up a superficial face of joy, building it up as I walked my way to where mother was.

Once I was finally at the dreaded door, I took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

What greeted me was but a shadow of what my mother once was. A skinny figure, a gaunt face that seemed to have had both it's beauty and youth sucked from it - a cancer patient. One who'd undergone chemotherapy as a way to slow the spread and improve quality of life...while she still had it.

But I ignored all that. It didn't matter. So I smiled, and I stepped forward, a box of food in hand, "Hello, mother," I greeted with a cheeriness you wouldn't think should be applicable in this scenario. I didn't want to be cheery or act like it. But mother said she hated sadness and whatnot, so I did my best to pay her back for what she'd done for me.

If anything, if she only wants this in return, I'm definitely getting the better deal. She wasted years of her life and put herself through so much. So, to only have to pretend to be cheery as payment is a win-win for me. Even if it feels nothing like a win-win scenario.

Hearing me, mother looked away from the window and toward me, before smiling, "Hello sweetie. Is it that time already?" she croaked, her voice sounding weak but still so full of love, "You got anything good for me? You know how I hate the food here," she managed a chuckle which soon spiraled into a coughing fit. I walked over to her a bit quicker than I usually would have and I pat her on the back, rubbing it soothingly and helping calm the cough.

It was her lungs again. After the brain, the cancerous cells spread quickly to her organs with the major one being the lungs. Not only did she have migraine-level headaches and terrible seizures, she'd also be up most of her time awake, coughing until she coughed up blood or bits of damaged flesh.

So, despite the doctors not listening to me about any of my advice, I did what I could to help her.

Medical massages, certain herbs that gave pain relief, inventing a breathing technique that avoided provoking the ire of her itchy and diseased lungs...I did what I could. Yet it still didn't help.

Finally, the coughing came to an end and mother took her hand away from her mouth to show that it had small speckles of blood on it. Putting the bag of food I'd brought, I reached into my back pocket and brought out some tissues and wiped up her hand.

While I was doing this, like she hadn't just coughed up blood, I started speaking to her, "I brought you some hotdogs off of that vendor. You know, the ones you are nearly addicted to and couldn't stop eating?" I smiled, chuckling, before putting the tissue in the nearby bin and carrying on, "Brought you some lemonade as well," I said but carried on before she could interrupt me, "Yes, yes, I know, mother. I got the sugar free ones," I finished before pulling over the chair and sitting down next to her.

"Good. Can't have you ruining my perfect teeth with sugar, now can I?" she joked, flashing her admittedly perfectly white teeth.

Despite the obvious response that came from deep within me and part of me wanted to say, I didn't say 'What does it matter? Sugar or no sugar, you're going to die anyway'. But I knew better than to say that. It was the old me that wanted to say that. The new me didn't want to say such a rude and blunt thing to my mother.

Smiling, I gave a reply I wanted to, "Ruining your teeth? I'm more worried about ruining mine," I joked, earning a smile from mother and a light chuckle as well.

As I heard this, I felt a fleeting feeling of happiness. Of joy. To be able to spend time with her was the only good thing to come out of this new life. But such a thought also brought me nothing but dread and despair. Even if it was joyful now, in the future, when she died...these memories would bring me nothing but pain and regret. If you can't be happy in the future...what's the point in being happy now?

I honestly wonder, sometimes, on why I wasn't given a cheat like in this novels. Why I wasn't given plot armor. Why my mother wasn't given plot armor. Or maybe it's because I was reincarnated that she had to die? Maybe me being born did that as compensation. A life for a life, so to speak.

...I have what I have. Talent. But, I'm still only human. A talented human is nothing compared to Superman. Wonder Woman. Aquaman. Even Batman is overshadowed by those god-like beings.

I have no cheats. I'm intelligent. Anyone with the right genes and environment can be intelligent. Even then, Lex Luthor has me beat. I'm one of the most intelligent people on Earth, sure, but I'm still behind that bald bastard.

I'm a medical genius. Yet I can't even save my mother from cancer. I couldn't even save myself.

Pathetic.

Just as my thoughts were beginning to become truly dark, I felt a hand move through my hair and pull down my hood, "Don't brood and concentrate on the bad things, Adam. Think happy thoughts," I heard mother selfishly say before she leaned back into her back that was inclined at a degree allowing her to sit up and face me without wasting energy, "And serve up the food! I'm starving!" she smiled widely while adjusting the bandanna she wore over her head to hide where she'd once had luscious black hair but was now bald.

Hearing her, I withheld my desire to sigh and just smiled before reaching down and pulling up the bag and taking out the carefully wrapped hotdogs and accompanying fizzy drinks. I passed mother hers and opened mine.

I was physically hungry. But emotionally I didn't want to eat. It was odd.

Mother, however, had so such qualms and eagerly began to dig into the hotdog that had nearly every topping and garnish imaginable.

Mine, on the other hand, was a plain hotdog with just some ketchup and mustard on it.

Following her lead, I began to eat the hotdog. Though in a much more casual and slow manner. I was never much of a fast eater anyway. Food should be savored, right? Anyway, while I did that, I began to think about some...things but before long, I felt a hand running through my hair again.

"You know that I love you, don't you, sweetie?" mother asked...an odd question that sparked some sense of despair deep inside of me.

Looking away from the window, I turned to her and looked into her eyes, "...Of course I do, mother," I replied, only getting an eye roll in return.

"What did I say about being so formal, Adam? You can call me 'mom' you know? Jeez, people are probably starting to think you aren't mommy's little boy," she joked and I felt somewhat embarrassed by her choice in words. But I couldn't exactly deny what she was saying. I never had a father-figure, so I was bond to be more favorable of my mother. Hardly see how it relevant here, however.

Sighing, I conceded, "Of course I know you love me...mom," I said and mother ruffled my hair in response.

"That's my boy," she joked before continuing with a more somber tone, "I...I loved you from the moment I held you, Adam. This little bundle of life that I'd made. You were and still are my world. Which is why I hate upsetting you like this. If only I wasn't so unlucky..." she apologized which stopped me in my tracks. I turned my head toward her so quickly I nearly snapped my neck.

I lifted a hand up and grabbed the hand she was using to stroke my hair, "I never have and never will blame you for getting cancer, mom. No matter how sad it makes me, I know that it was never you intention to make me sad. So please, do not ever blame yourself like that ever again," I gave her a stern look before mumbling, "It's unbecoming."

Hearing what I said, mother went silent for a few seconds before she started chuckling. Which soon became an out pour of raucous laughter. Before it quickly became giggles you wouldn't expect to hear from a woman with terminal cancer. She wasn't interrupted by her cough or by becoming short of breath. Nothing. She just kept going. It wasn't maniacal laughter. No, it was just laughter born of...humor and joy. Pure laughter.

Before long mother stopped laughing and she wiped a tear from her eye, "Oh, Adam, you really know how to word things," she said with a mirthful tone, "You speak so polite and so full of charisma despite being from Gotham. It's truly a talent," she stopped and looked at me with soft eyes, "I truly do love you, sweetie."

Seeing this and hearing her words, I smiled before I looked back to my hotdog, "I love you too, mom--" though before I could even finish my sentence, I heard a thud.

A soft thud. Like a hand and arm landing on a mattress.

But the sense of despair I felt earlier came back in full. Which is when I realized what this had all been:

A goodbye and an apology.

...Despite being such a genius, I was truly lacking in the Emotional Intelligence department.

I don't know what sort of force or power came over me, but I put down my half-eaten hotdog and stood up. I looked over my mother as she lay so still it caused my chest to feel like it was tearing itself apart. She was smiling. It was beautiful. Then why did I feel so sad? I leaned in and put my index and middle finger on her neck.

...Nothing. No pulse. No breath going through her throat. Just...nothing.

I backed up, feeling sick and dizzy and angry all at the same time. I walked to the side of the bed, still unsure how I was still even functioning, and I pressed the emergency button for the nurses to get here.

But while I was waiting, I just kept looking at my mother. So still. So...lifeless.

I felt empty. Even as the nurses ran into the room and began to question me, I just stood there like a statue. But even when I didn't speak, they knew what had happened.

They began to do checks over her while still trying to speak to me.

But I couldn't hear them. I suddenly felt like I was underwater. Everything sounded muted or distorted. I felt like I couldn't breath. Yet through some unknown force, I turned around and left the room. As soon as I left the room, I closed the door and began walking down the hallway.

I made it halfway down the hallway before my emotions caught up to me and I turned to the wall next to me and began to beat it with every bit of strength that I had.

I beat the wall until my knuckles were bloody. Until the skin was beginning to come off my hand and stick to the wall.

I only stopped when a couple of nurses dragged me away from the wall. But even then I was still trying to lash out. I got one of them right in the nose, sending her flying back into another wall. I spun around and threw the other off of my arm, his body colliding with the ground in a sick crunch.

Broken collar bone, probably.

I didn't stick around to help. I left. Walking off, I didn't feel the need to hit anything anymore. I just felt numb. Like my chest was made of lead and stone. Breathing was difficult and my heart felt like it had a knife stuck in it. Every beat...was pain. Every pause between each beat...was even more pain. It all just hurt.

Yet I still felt numb. A constant cycle between numbness and pain. But I still kept on walking. Why? I had...things to do. Plans to enact. Money to make. I didn't feel...right, anymore. I felt like something had snapped inside of me. Like something had died.

But still...I kept on walking.