Echoes Of The Departed

The automatic doors sighed open as my shift began. The familiar smell of disinfectant wrapping around me is like a second uniform. I was a nurse and everything felt routine as I walked through the corridors. Nodding to doctors and greeting colleagues with tired smiles. In the staff room, laughter hummed quietly while I hung up my coat and sat my bag down. Nothing seemed unusual yet still a tight feeling of unease gathered in my chest, as if the air itself had thickened. The lights flickered once just long enough to be noticed, and the chatter around me faded into an uncomfortable silence. I brushed it off telling myself it was just another long shift or perhaps from the restless sleep the night before. But my reflection in the locker door looked pale and unfamiliar, though as I turned to leave the room, a chill ran down my spine, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

The halls were eerily quiet, not a soul in sight yet the sound of beeping echoed so loudly that the vibrations could be felt beneath my feet. I make my way through the corridor, calling out for someone, anyone, but my voice was lost; smothered by the silence. I checked room after room but each stood more neglected than the last. I began checking patients' beds, my heart racing as panic set in and I started to wonder if I was losing my mind, some were stripped bare while others were stained with faint traces of blood. The monitors beside them still beeped steadily, heart rates flashing on the screens despite no one being there. Though at the very moment the realisation dawned on me, a sudden sound tore through the silence

Hesitant, I stop in the doorway, my hand rests on the handle unsure whether to leave or not but once i finally leave the room i pause taking a few more steps to see. Nothing? I plan to reenter the room. To see something, well someone. A man, a patient? At the end of the corridor, my voice echoes through the hallway calling out to the man yet getting nothing in return. Then with a glance to the right there he stood. Hospital gown, walking stick in hand. The atmosphere tense as I wait for a sign, one that he's okay, was he lost? Could he see all this too? The thoughts fill my head and before I know it I'm approaching him, footsteps light and soft as not to startle him.

"Sir? Are you lost?"

My voice is calm though with a trace of concern for the man. Yet the moment I get too close he flees, stumbling through the corridors he doesn't turn his head, doesn't look back, just keeps going with no regards to where he'll end up. Trailing behind him I come to a stop as he enters through a double door. My skin pales, the blood leaking under the door, the caution tape laying on the floor, the faint stale smell leading through the hallway, it was no secret that something was wrong. For a moment I think things over, knowing the dangers that could be waiting for me. But I couldn't live with myself if anything was to happen…to a patient. my patient.

I force myself to keep moving, The lights above flicker violently, casting broken shadows along the walls, dark streaks of blood [word crossed out] across the once clean floor tiles. A stale metallic smell clings to the air, thick and suffocating, making my stomach twist. Every instinct tells me to turn back, to leave this nightmare behind, yet I can't. Not when my patient is still somewhere ahead. I call out for him again, the sound stretching into the distance as though the building itself is swallowing it whole. It feels like hours before I finally catch a glimpse of him standing unnaturally under a glowing light.

I feel a sense of relief rushed through me, my footsteps clattering off the floor tiles.

"Wait!"

I called out. Desperation seeping into my voice. He begins walking again- not fast but just enough to stay out of reach. Panic tightens in my chest. I can't lose him again. As I close the distance, I slow, trying to approach him calmly so I won't frighten him. Reaching out a shaky hand as my fingers brush his shoulder he stops. For a moment, everything is silent, the lights steady, the air still. Then, without warning he turns. His expression blank, eyes hollow and unfamiliar. Before I can step back, he pulls a knife from behind his back. There's a flash of cold metal, a sudden sharp pain, and the world tilts violently. I gasp, stumbling as warmth spreads through my uniform. The corridor spins, the flickering lights blurring above. I collapse to the blood streaked floor, the echo of my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.

I gasp. My eyes flutter open to the sight of my colleague gripping my shoulders, his eyes full of confusion. He calls my name over and over. The corridors are bright again. No blood, No stale smells, No flickering shadows. Just a familiar hum of the machines and distant voices. I blink, panic still clawing at my chest as I try to steady my breathing.

"You fainted,"

My colleague gently guides me towards a nearby chair.

"Youve been overworking yourself."

But the fear doesn't fade, I push his hands away and rush out into the corridor, ignoring the protests behind me. I need to see for myself, I check every room along the ward. My heart is pounding in my ears. One by one I look inside. Patients, sleeping peacefully, monitors beeping softly, curtains swaying lightly from the air vents. Everything is normal. too normal. Then I reached my patient's room. My hand trembles as I open the door. Though I am met with the sight of an empty bed.

The sheets are neatly folded. The monitor is switched off. There's no sign of anyone ever being here. Confused, I convinced myself he just moved to another ward. Passing a doctor, I ask where he is. But the doctor just frowns slightly.

"What do you mean?"

He asks. Before following with.

"He passed last night."

The words hit harder than any blade. My breath catches as a cold chill runs down my spine, slowly I glance at my uniform. For just a moment, there's a faint, dark stain spreading across the fabric. Before it slowly fades away.