ECHOS OF THE PAST

8. The Midnight Call

It was 12:00 AM when my phone rang. The shrill sound cut through the oppressive silence of my apartment, making my heart jump. I didn't recognize the number, but something in my gut told me to answer.

"Hello?" I croaked, my throat tight.

The voice on the other end was shaky, filled with urgency. "Is this Priya? I'm a friend of Mona's. I found her wandering near her old apartment. She's hurt—bleeding from her nose and mouth. I...I rushed her to the hospital. She's not talking, just staring into space. I saw your missed calls on her phone. Thought you'd want to know."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Bleeding? Wandering? Shock? My mind spun in circles, trying to grasp the situation. How could this be happening? I was supposed to protect her, keep her safe.

"Which hospital?" I whispered, feeling my chest tighten.

He gave me the address, and I booked a cab immediately. My hands were trembling as I typed in the location. The ride there felt endless, each passing second amplifying my anxiety, my guilt. I replayed the last few days over and over in my head. The signs were there—her strange behavior, the erratic mood swings, the way she seemed to drift in and out of some unseen world. I should've known. I should've stopped her from going out alone.

As the cab sped through the city streets, my mind raced even faster. I tried calling the hospital for an update on her condition. "She seems to be in a state of shock," the nurse explained. "There are no signs of physical assault, and we didn't find any internal injuries. The bleeding might have been stress-induced, but we're keeping her under observation for a few days to be sure."

The cab screeched to a halt outside the hospital, the cold night air biting at my skin as I rushed through the automatic doors. The antiseptic smell hit me, a harsh contrast to the warmth of the cab. As I walked through the sterile white corridors, my heart pounded in my chest. I approached the glass wall of the room where they were keeping Mona. She was lying there, pale and fragile, like a broken doll left out in the cold. The sight of her lying so still made my breath hitch. Her face was ghostly white, paler than I had ever seen, and though she slept peacefully, there was something haunting about the way her body looked so small and vulnerable against the hospital sheets.

Her friend, the one who had called me, stood near the door, shifting awkwardly. He looked exhausted, his face drawn with worry.

"Thank you," I said softly, my voice barely audible. "Thank you for bringing her here."

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and concern. "She wasn't herself. I've known Mona for years, and I've never seen her like that. She kept muttering something... I couldn't make out what, but it sounded... off."

"Off?" I asked, my stomach twisting.

He shook his head. "I don't know. It was like she was talking to someone who wasn't there. And then she just stopped. Didn't say another word, just stared."

A chill crawled down my spine. Something far darker was happening, and I was starting to feel like I was completely in over my head.

After her friend left, I sank into one of the hard, uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, adding to the overwhelming sense of discomfort. I buried my face in my hands, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on me. I should have seen the signs. I should have done something earlier. I was supposed to be her friend, her protector, yet here she was—broken, fragile, slipping further away from me.

Tears streamed down my face, hot and fast. My hands trembled as I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear the fog of guilt that clouded my mind. How could I protect her from something I didn't even understand? How could I fight against forces that were unseen, lurking just beyond my grasp? I felt helpless, utterly powerless, as if the world had spun out of control, leaving me behind.

I sat there for what felt like hours, lost in my thoughts, until the reality of the situation hit me—Mr. Thompson. We had been planning to meet him, to confront him, to try and make sense of all the dark, twisted threads that were weaving their way through our lives. But now, with Mona in the hospital, it felt impossible. How could I leave her like this? How could I face Mr. Thompson alone?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, a sharp reminder of the time. I had the option to message Mr. Thompson, to tell him we couldn't make it tonight. But something deep inside me resisted. Things were spiraling out of control, and I had the sinking feeling that delaying this meeting would only make things worse.

I wiped my tears, sniffing quietly in the dimly lit waiting room. I couldn't afford to lose Mona. Whatever was happening to her, whatever forces were at play, I needed to get to the bottom of it. I couldn't let it take her from me—not like this.

My decision solidified in the pit of my stomach. I had to go. I had to face Mr. Thompson, to understand the twisted history that seemed to be haunting us. The strange dreams, the shadowy figures, the connection between Mona and whatever dark presence lurked in the corners of our lives—it was all tangled together, and the answers were slipping further from my grasp.

I stood up from the chair, taking one last glance through the glass wall at Mona's sleeping form. She was so still, so peaceful, but something about her didn't feel right. I couldn't explain it, but the air in the room felt heavy, oppressive, as if the shadows themselves were watching, waiting.

And then it struck me... the old apartment? Why was Mona there so late at night? The thought glared at me, unraveling a thread of questions I hadn't considered before. Was she meeting someone? Could it be tied to the eerie events we'd been experiencing? Or perhaps... it was something more innocent, like a yearning to reconnect with her childhood memories?

But I didn't remember her ever mentioning that place. Not even once. It was as if she had hidden that part of her life somewhere at the back of her mind. 

Did our conversation stir something within her. Something that made her revisit her old apartment. Oh dammit! Maybe it was too early for me to mention all of that. I felt really stupid. I should not have divulged all of that details at one go. 

My thoughts circled back to that article—the one where one of Mona's childhood friends had mentioned the haunted rumors surrounding the old apartment. At the time, I had dismissed it as a cruel joke or gossip spread by kids. Now, in light of everything, I couldn't shake the feeling that those whispers might hold more weight. What if there was some truth behind the ghost stories? Could the neighbors know something that the papers hadn't covered? Or maybe there were secrets hidden within the walls of that apartment, waiting to be uncovered?

I checked my watch—3:30 AM. The dead of night. Tomorrow. I decided to investigate the old apartment first thing in the morning. Maybe the answer was there, buried in Mona's past. I could swing by home, shower, and clear my head before heading out. I'd visit the hospital to check on her, and after that, I'd confront Mr. Thompson. If anyone had answers, it was him.

With a deep breath, I grabbed my phone and stepped outside the hospital, the cold night air biting at my skin once again. I called a cab, the sense of dread growing with each passing second. I didn't know what I was about to walk into, but I knew that there was no turning back now.

As I waited on the curb, the faint sounds of the city at night faded into the background, and a strange, eerie silence settled over me. The hospital lights flickered briefly, and for a moment, I thought I saw something move in the shadows across the street. My breath caught in my throat as I stared, but when I blinked, the figure was gone, swallowed by the darkness.

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of paranoia that seemed to be creeping into my mind. There was too much at stake to let fear take over now. Whatever Mr. Thompson knew—whatever secrets he had been keeping—I was about to find out. And nothing, not even the dark presence that seemed to be lurking in every corner, would stop me.

The cab pulled up, and I slid into the backseat, my heart pounding in my chest as we drove through the deserted streets. I had no idea what I would find when I arrived, but one thing was certain—I was walking into something far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.