The hospital room was still. A sterile light buzzed softly from above, casting pale shadows across the unmoving form of the boy who hadn't aged a day on the outside—but whose mind was buried under decades of silence. Alex lay peacefully, his breathing even, his face calm. Machines hummed, wires connected to his arms and chest, and a soft beeping monitored what was left of his presence in the world.
A knock tapped gently at the door.
The door creaked open. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside. His weathered leather jacket clung to his frame, a long scar ran down his left cheek, and his eyes—ice blue and wary—swept across the room like a hunter entering a battlefield.
"Morning, kid," he muttered gruffly, pulling off his gloves. A second later, a bright-eyed teenage girl peeked inside and followed.
"He still looks the same," she whispered. Her long brown hair was tied back, and her boots squeaked against the linoleum floor as she approached Alex's side. "Like he's sleeping."
"That's 'cause part of him still is," the man said, placing a small bag on the table. "Might not hear us, but... we talk anyway. Right,Selene?"
She nodded, pulling a small notebook from her backpack.
---
Their visits had started ten years ago.
The man was Nathan Winchester—a legendary monster hunter whose name had once sent shivers through the underworld of the supernatural. His daughter, Selene Winchester, was only three years old when he pulled Alex's body from the cold river, shot in the head and barely alive. Back then, Nathan had gone dark, disappeared from the hunter networks after his wife was killed by a witch in Europe.
But fate had brought them to that river.
Nathan wasn't the kind of man to believe in divine intervention. He believed in blood, silver, UV rounds, and the slow trigger pull when face-to-face with evil. And yet, he couldn't explain what made him look downstream that day… what made him jump in.
Alex had no records, no ID, no legal existence. So Cain used his old contacts, forged the paperwork, and named the boy Alex Cross—an orphan, fourteen years old. But to Cain, Alex was never just a name. He had felt something strange that day—something powerful. The boy was special.
---
"Today's story," Nathan began, settling into the old chair beside the bed, "is about the time I hunted a banshee in Dublin. Crazy job. Your typical wailing-woman-in-white scenario, but this one had claws. Sharp ones. Took a bite outta my side before I got the net around her.
"selene" rolled her eyes.
"You always make it sound like a bar fight. Didn't you say Uncle Blake helped that time?"
"He did. But that idiot used a sonic bomb underground. Nearly buried us both."
Nathan leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Anyway, I set a trap in the cemetery. Salted the whole mausoleum. Got her to scream, drew her right into the mirror charm..."
Selene sat by Alex's side, her hand resting gently over his.
"I know you can't talk back," she whispered, "but it's weird. I feel like... you hear us sometimes. Like your eyes twitch when we laugh. Or when Dad yells at the nurses."
Nathan grunted. "I don't yell. I project.
selene smirked. "Whatever."
She opened her notebook and began reading aloud.
"So, um… I made three new friends at school this week. One's named Ava. She's super into old literature. We talk about vampire myths a lot. I don't tell her Dad actually hunted one in Florence, though. That'd ruin the book club vibe."
Nathan chuckled.
"They think I'm just a normal girl. I mean, sometimes I wish I was. But also… Dad says the world's full of shadows. And I get it now."
She looked at Alex.
"You've seen them too, haven't you? The monsters hiding among people. That scar on your chest… the way you were shot. It wasn't normal. I think you were fighting something. Or running from it."
Nathan looked up sharply, but said nothing.
---
Years passed. Every New Year's Eve, they came—sometimes with cheap party hats, sometimes with hot cocoa and stories. Nathan spoke of hunts gone wrong, and lost allies. Selene shared her first fencing match, her crushes, her heartbreaks. Alex never answered. But they never stopped talking.
---
Year 3.
Cain stood at the window, watching snow fall.
"Your mother was like this weather. Cold. Silent. Beautiful in a way that made your chest hurt. She died slow. I never told Selene the details. But maybe someday, when you wake up, I'll tell you everything."
---
Year 5.
Selene was twelve.
"I finally hit bullseye on the silver dartboard. Took Dad four weeks to teach me how to throw properly. He says I still aim with my emotions, though. Whatever that means."
She paused.
"I think I saw a demon on campus. Maybe. It was just a glimpse. Red eyes. It disappeared when I turned."
Nathan muttered from the corner, "Don't chase shadows unless you're ready to bleed."
---
Year 7.
Selene leaned closer.
"Sometimes I wish you'd wake up and say hi. Or tell me what to do when I'm scared. Is that selfish? Dad says you've got something important buried in your brain. But… I just think you're lonely."
---
Year 10.
Nathan's jaw was tight.
He paced the room before stopping by the bed.
"We have to leave, Alex. I'm sorry. We can't keep coming back. Some old enemies finally picked up my scent. Selene in danger.
"Selene" hugged Alex's arm tightly.
"We'll be okay. I just… I wish I could stay longer. I got you a new book. I don't know if you like mysteries, but it's about this detective who pretends to be stupid, but he's actually a genius. Kinda like you."
Nathan placed a silver pendant on the table.
"You ever wake up, kid… this charm's got our name etched in it. Winchester. You find it, and maybe someday we'll meet again. Maybe you'll even hunt with us."
He grinned.
"Wouldn't that be something."
Selene brushed her fingers along Alex's face.
"Goodbye, Alex. Happy New Year."
---
The door closed.
The room was silent once again.
Years passed.
Alex never moved.
Until one cold midnight, twenty years after he was shot…