Eva Watson woke slowly, as if rising from the depths of a dark sea.
The first thing she noticed was the silence—heavy, unnatural. Not the silence of night, but the silence of places long abandoned.
She opened her eyes. A cracked white ceiling stared back at her, a dark stain spreading across it like something slowly burning. A small lamp hung in the center, swaying gently for no clear reason, emitting a faint buzzing sound, like an insect trapped inside glass.
The sharp smell of disinfectant filled her lungs, mixed with an old, damp odor. She tried to move and felt cold plastic against her wrist. A hospital bracelet.
Eva Watson.
No date. No number. Just her name.
She couldn't remember how she got here. Her mind was empty, yet her head throbbed as if someone had tampered with it. She slowly sat up, the metal bed creaking loudly, as though the room itself protested being disturbed. At that exact moment, the lamp's buzzing stopped… then returned, weaker.
She looked around. The room was small. The walls were pale, stained with dark marks that resembled old handprints. The window was shut, the curtain half torn, moving slightly despite the absence of wind. Near the door, on the floor, there was a small puddle of water, slowly spreading—or at least it seemed that way.
Tap… tap… tap…
A soft, rhythmic sound echoed somewhere inside the room. Eva tilted her head, trying to locate it. It wasn't a clock. It wasn't a medical device. It sounded like dripping water… yet the ceiling was dry.
She swallowed hard and stood up. Her footsteps echoed louder than expected on the cold floor, as if the room were larger than it appeared. She approached the door and placed her hand on the handle.
A strange sensation crept over her.
An unnatural coldness, as if someone else had touched it moments before.
From the hallway beyond the door, a distant sound emerged.
A metal cart being pushed slowly.
Its wheels scraped unevenly… screech… stop… screech…
Then—silence.
Eva held her breath. The stillness returned, heavier than before, as if the entire hospital was watching her. Suddenly, a faint whisper reached her ears. The words were unclear, barely audible.
It wasn't coming from the hallway.
It was coming from the wall.
She stepped back, her heart pounding. When she pressed her ear against the wall, the whisper vanished instantly. In its place, she heard slow breathing… very close.
She turned quickly.
The room was empty.
And yet… she could feel it clearly.
Someone was standing right behind her.
She didn't dare turn around.
At that moment, the lamp went out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
And in the blackness, the whisper returned—clearer
now, closer, right beside her ear.
"Don't move…"