The days following Dr. Wilson's diagnosis settled over Henry like a thick, suffocating fog. His room, once a vibrant hub of intellectual exploration, now felt like a prison. The neatly stacked books on his shelves, once a source of endless fascination, now taunted him with their untouchable knowledge. The half - completed science fair project, tucked away in the back of his desk, was a constant reminder of the dreams that now seemed out of reach.
At school, the change in Henry was palpable. His friends noticed his sudden withdrawal, the way he no longer eagerly raised his hand in class or offered his unique insights during discussions. In math class, when the teacher presented a challenging problem, the room fell silent as all eyes turned to Henry, expecting him to effortlessly solve it as he once did. But he just stared at the board, his mind blank, a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes. "Henry?" the teacher asked, concern lacing her voice. "Are you okay?" He could only manage a weak nod and a mumbled "I'm fine," before sinking lower in his seat.
During lunch breaks, Henry would find a quiet corner of the cafeteria, away from the chatter and laughter of his peers. He picked at his food, his appetite gone. His friends tried to engage him in conversation, cracking jokes and sharing stories, but he could barely muster a smile. "Come on, Henry," Mike said one day, nudging him gently. "What's going on? You've been acting so weird lately." Henry wanted to tell him, to confide in his best friend about the strange turn his life had taken, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he just shrugged and said, "I'm just tired, I guess."
Even the library, his once - beloved sanctuary, held no comfort. He would sit at his usual table, surrounded by the familiar smell of old books, but he couldn't bring himself to open a single one. He would stare out the window, watching the leaves flutter in the wind, lost in his own thoughts. The other students, oblivious to his inner turmoil, went about their business, chatting softly, flipping through pages, and typing on their laptops. Henry felt like an outsider, adrift in a world that had suddenly become foreign to him.
At home, the tension was thick. His parents walked on eggshells around him, their eyes filled with worry. His mother would try to cheer him up by cooking his favorite meals, but he would push the food around on his plate, barely taking a few bites. His father would sit him down, his expression serious, and say, "Henry, we know you're going through a tough time, but you have to talk to us. We're here for you." But Henry would just nod and mumble a half - hearted "I know," before retreating to his room.
As the days turned into weeks, Henry's condition seemed to worsen. The headaches became more frequent, and the pain was now a constant, dull throb that never fully went away. His vision would sometimes blur for a few seconds, and he would feel dizzy, as if the world was spinning around him. He started to avoid going out as much as possible, making excuses to stay home. He missed the science fair, watching from afar as his classmates set up their projects, a bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth.
One particularly gloomy afternoon, as rain lashed against the windows, Henry lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was dark, the only light coming from the occasional flash of lightning outside. He felt a deep sense of despair wash over him. What was the point of it all? he wondered. Why had he been given these amazing abilities only to have them snatched away so quickly? He thought about the future, about all the things he had dreamed of doing, and a lump formed in his throat.
Just then, a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. It was his sister, Emily. She peeked her head in, her eyes wide with concern. "Henry, can I come in?" she asked softly. He nodded, and she walked over to the bed, sitting down beside him. "I know you're sad," she said, taking his hand. "And I know you're scared. But you're not alone, you know. We're all here for you."
Henry looked at his sister, tears welling up in his eyes. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of this darkness. Maybe, with the help of his family and friends, he could find a way to overcome this challenge and embrace his new reality, whatever it may be.
As the rain continued to pour outside, Henry closed his eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over him. It was a small, fragile peace, but it was a start. And in that moment, he knew that no matter how difficult the road ahead may be, he was ready to face it, one step at a time.
After his sister left the room, Henry lay in bed, still feeling a bit of the warmth from her comforting words. But as he closed his eyes, hoping to find some rest, a strange sight greeted him in the darkness of his mind. A bright, glowing number—3%—appeared, floating in front of his inner eye like a neon sign. It was so vivid and clear that he jolted upright, his heart pounding.
"What on earth was that?" he muttered to himself, his eyes wide with confusion. He had never experienced anything like this before. Was it some sort of side effect of his brain's changes? Or was it a clue to something even more mysterious? The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Henry couldn't shake the image of the number from his mind. He knew he had to find out what it meant, but he was terrified of telling anyone. What if the doctors, or worse, some shadowy organization, found out about this strange occurrence? He imagined being taken away, strapped to a table, and used as a "guinea pig" for all sorts of terrifying experiments. Just the thought made his hair stand on end and his palms start to sweat.
Determined to keep his discovery a secret, Henry decided to take matters into his own hands. The next day, while his parents were at work and his sister was at school, he sneaked into the study and turned on the family computer. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment as he tried to figure out where to start. He typed in "what does 3% mean" and hit enter.
Page after page of search results popped up, but most of them were related to mundane things like discounts, statistics in business reports, or small percentages in scientific studies. None of them seemed to have any connection to his situation. Frustrated, he leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair.
Then, he had an idea. He started to search for articles about strange brain phenomena, psychic experiences, and unexplained mental occurrences. He sifted through countless blogs, forums, and scientific papers. Some of the stories he read were so outlandish that he almost gave up, thinking he was on a wild - goose chase.
But then, he stumbled upon a forum post by someone who claimed to have had premonitions that always came with a specific number. The person described how these numbers would flash in their mind before something important happened. Henry's heart skipped a beat as he read through the post. Could this be related to his 3%?
He continued to dig deeper, following links and reading more about similar experiences. As he delved further, he found a few scientific studies that mentioned the concept of the "unconscious mind" sending signals in the form of numbers or symbols. According to some theories, these could be the brain's way of processing information that the conscious mind wasn't yet aware of.
Henry spent hours poring over the information, taking notes and trying to piece together the puzzle. He lost track of time, so engrossed in his research that he didn't hear his parents come home. It was only when his mother called him for dinner that he realized how late it had gotten.
As he sat at the dinner table, pushing his food around his plate, his mind was still consumed with thoughts of the 3%. He answered his parents' questions with short, distracted replies, praying that they wouldn't notice his preoccupation.
That night, as he lay in bed again, he closed his eyes, half - hoping and half - dreading that the number would reappear. But all he saw was the darkness of his closed lids. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that this 3% was going to play a significant role in his life, and he was determined to uncover its meaning, no matter the risks.