Leo stopped in front of a particular ICU room, his footsteps slowing until they came to a halt.
The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, humming with that sterile, constant buzz that all hospitals seemed to have.
The hallway was silent, eerily so, with only the distant echoes of footsteps and the occasional muffled page over the intercom breaking the stillness.
His tired eye settled on the small, circular window embedded in the ICU door. The glass was slightly fogged from the difference in temperature between the icy hallway and the warmer interior, but it was just clear enough to glimpse the scene beyond.
Inside, under the dull yellow wash of ceiling lights, a figure lay still on the bed.
The body wrapped in thick, white gauze—looked more like a mummy than a living person.
Almost all of the skin was hidden, sealed beneath layers of sterile bandages. The few parts that were visible were swollen, bruised, and discolored.
