Paint Me Blue

XVIII. Blue Nostalgia

The hospital female ward was steeped in an almost oppressive stillness, broken only by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional muffled beeps from distant monitors.

Two patients occupied the room. The first, a woman in her early twenties, lay motionless in her bed, her breathing deep and even. The soft rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of life, her face serene in slumber.

Across the room, the second patient sat upright in her bed. Her head was bowed, her long, unkempt hair cascading forward to veil her face. Her thin, trembling hands scratched absently at her legs, leaving faint red trails on her pale skin. Her nails moved with nervous energy, a silent indicator of her inner turmoil.

Every few seconds, her head would jerk up, her dark eyes darting toward the door, as if expecting it to burst open at any moment.

She shifted suddenly, her breathing quickening. With a noiseless motion, she slipped off the bed, her bare feet touching the cold, tiled floor. Slowly, cautiously, she tiptoed toward the door. Her fingers hovered near the handle before she turned it ever so gently, the creak of the hinge almost imperceptible.

Peeking her head outside, her eyes landed on the two police officers stationed on either side of the door. Their stern expressions and rigid postures betrayed no sign of letting their guard down.

The girl with Siri's face quickly pulled back into the room, shutting the door as quietly as she had opened it. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession, her nerves fraying further.

She began pacing back and forth in the far corner of the room, her thumb finding its way to her mouth as she gnawed at the nail, her eyes flicking nervously to the wall clock. Each passing second seemed to mock her restlessness.

Suddenly, a soft knock echoed against the door. Her body froze mid-step, the sound sending her heart into overdrive. Without thinking, she bolted back toward her bed, scrambling to climb in. It wouldn't do to be caught out of bed by the guards. Her heart hammered in her chest as she moved to feign sleep.

But before she could fully settle, she caught a movement...a shadow passing across the narrow gap under the door. Her eyes widened as a small slip of paper slid into the room.

She froze, staring at it for several seconds, the trembling in her limbs intensifying. Her mind raced, torn between fear and curiosity. Finally, unable to resist, she moved cautiously toward the paper. Her thin, shaky hand reached out to pick it up, the texture of the crumpled sheet rough against her fingertips.

Her eyes scanned the words written on it, her breath hitching as their meaning began to sink in.

The oppressive silence of the hospital ward shattered abruptly, giving way to a piercing, A minute of stillness passed, thick and uneasy, before the tranquility of the hospital floor was shattered by a blood-curdling scream.

The sound ripped through the air, raw and harrowing, reverberating down the sterile corridors. It seemed to come from the female ward, sending shockwaves of alarm to anyone within earshot.

Nurses and visitors froze, their faces pale with dread, while the muted hum of the hospital machinery seemed to falter, as if even the building itself held its breath. The scream lingered in the silence that followed, chilling and ominous, an unspoken harbinger of something deeply wrong.

War's legs felt like lead as he followed Yin down the hallway toward the latter's room, each step heavier than the last. The weight of their earlier conversation sat heavily in his chest, its echoes gnawing at his resolve.

Despite Yin's attempt to lighten the atmosphere, the unresolved tension from their shared past made every inch of the distance between them feel insurmountable.