Four Painful Years

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JULIE: “Sniff… Huh?”

???: “Pardon my impertinence, associates of mine like to keep a running tally of how many times I’ve been divinely misattributed, operating under the false pretense that doing so will force me to reconsider my wardrobe...”
???: “But… I digress. Did you sleep well?”

JULIE: “I… I guess.”
JULIE: “I’m still not sure if I’m even really awake...”

???: “Mm. Waking up to news of your own death can do that to you.”
???: “Condolences about the scuffle with your neighbor, by the way... Had we the resources to rehabilitate his particularly… unique brand of substance abuse, he needn’t have been a casualty.”
???: “Of course, with that amount of improperly transfused troll blood in your system, what you’ve essentially done is sign your own death warrant...”

JULIE: “...”
JULIE: “Who are you...?”

Sitting up in your bed, you notice how incredibly short this person is. In fact, you think he might be shorter than you are! His accent is funny, too… a bit like the bird from that one lion movie, or the robot butler in that game you like. He’s pretty extravagantly dressed from what you can tell… the light’s making his silhouette all blurry.

???: “Oh, pestilence and botheration, where are my manners! Let’s do introductions now, shall we? Come, come...”

He beckons you toward the furthest wall. As he turns around you catch a glimpse of the source of that obnoxious light. Floating just behind the tiny man’s head is a silver disc about twice the size of a quarter. A luminescent cone shines outward from the bottom, following his movements.

JULIE: “Umm… I don’t know if you’ve noticed?”
JULIE: “But I’m in a hospital bed. With broken ribs. I kind of have to be here.”
JULIE: “Also I don’t know you and I’ve been having really bad luck with strangers lately, so, no thanks.”

???: “Don’t be silly, Miss Mitchells, you’re fully healed. Have been for days.”
???: “I hate to think where you’d be right now had one of your friends not first treated you with magic… Body cast, most likely.”

JULIE: “... Magic?”

You healed in only two days? Is that why your injuries don’t hurt? How is that possible? Magic? Is this guy for real?

… Then again…

JULIE: “What’s going on?”

???: “Hm?”

JULIE: “What’s happening to everybody? Why are there crazy invincible guys with super strength all of a sudden? Why are people trying to kill me? Why am I suddenly seeing all these weird animals and colors everywhere? Why are my friends lying about my death on TV, and why is there now some... pocket-friendly British guy standing here, in my hospital room, going on about ‘troll blood’ and ‘magic’ and other assorted Harry Potter hoo-ha?”
JULIE: “And how do you know my name!?”

???: “I know many things.”

JULIE: “Obviously!”

???: “It’s also written on the physician’s note at the foot of your bed.”

JULIE: “... Well whatever!”
JULIE: “You sound like you know what’s going down around town. Like you know literally everything about the shit I’ve been through. You might even know everything about me which is… creepy, but that’s my point!”
JULIE: “Tell me what you know, you creepy, creepy… creep… person!”

???: “If it's all the same to you, Miss Mitchells, I’d really rather not discuss the nature of your situation in public...”

JULIE: “Ex-QUEEZE me!?”

He leans back a bit. You’ve subconsciously crawled forward to the end of the mattress.

JULIE: “Oh, I'm soooo sorry, life must be soooo hard for you! I didn’t realize you needed a happy place to explain to an assault victim, one who was just framed as a negative female stereotype in a horsecrap obituary, why her life decided to go from zero to negative ten-billion in the span of a day! What a chore it must be that people constantly mistake you for God. Yeah, no- Your life must be the absolute worst. Doesn't compare to my thrilling life of near death experiences and a fake suicide televised all over the news! Nothing but peaches and cream on my end!"
"In fact, I bet no one’s even asked how you’re doing today. Never mind my petty little questions, PLEASE! Tell me how YOUR unfair bullshit life is treating you."

You’re standing up now, right in this asshole’s face. You’re close enough you’d be able to see the fear in his eyes, were an odd shadow not obscuring his features.

???: “You, Miss Mitchells…”

He grabs you by the shoulders. Oh shit.

???: “... You are going to be just fine!”

… Okaaay? Why does he sound so happy about that? He sounds like he’s about to get on a roller coaster. Or like he just got off one.

JULIE: “Wha?”

???: “Come, come! We have many things to deliberate upon!”
???: “Ha! And they said this was going to be difficult...”

He turns around again, but this time he walks straight through the wall. The tiny disc that was following him around floats to the floor and lands glowy side up. A moment later, a holographic down arrow appears, bobbing just above where your head would be were you to stand under it.

Just… Sigh...

What do you do?