ZED’S POV
Hospitals have a sound of their own.
Not the beeping monitors or the distant footsteps.
It’s the silence between them, thick, watchful, suffocating.
I stood outside the emergency unit, my hands still stained with faint traces of her blood. Even after washing them twice, I could still see it. Still feel it. My chest tightened every time the memory flashed.
Blood.
Thick blood.
The emergency door had swallowed her minutes ago. Doctors rushing. Nurses barking instructions. Someone pushing me aside as if I were nothing more than furniture in the way.
Now there was nothing.
Just waiting.
And waiting was torture.
I paced the corridor like a madman, my shoes scraping against the polished floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. Every second stretched unnaturally long, like time
