I clenched the paper tighter, feeling the thin fibers bite into my palm.
“What does she want me to know?” I asked, voice shaking, the words tangled with fear and curiosity.
He swallowed, the color draining from his face as if the hallway itself were sucking the life out of him.
“You need to see something,” he said, turning away from the doors that led to the operating theater.
He led me down a side corridor, the smell of antiseptic growing stronger with each step, the distant beeping now a distant drum.
When we stopped, the hallway opened into a small, dimly lit staff lounge, the only place left untouched by the chaos outside.
The Photo Album Unveils a Hidden Guardian
Caleb pushed open the heavy wooden door, and the soft hum of a vending machine greeted us.
He gestured to a battered leather‑bound album perched on a side table, its corners frayed from years of handling.
