ROSE'S POV:
The walls here have no memory.
They stare back at me the same way every day blank, silent, swallowing every scream, every whisper.
But I've started to count the days in my own way.
Therapy, if you can call it that, comes every three days. That's the only time they let us out of our rooms.
It's the only time I can look for her again.
The woman with the blue eyes. Pamela.
We had met again last session, but it was too rushed—nurses hovering, time slipping away. Still, what she told me was enough to burn into my mind:
I am not mad.
This place is not safe.
And under these floors… there's something dark. Something rotten.
She told me to stop taking the pills.
It was the first real thing anyone had said to me since I got here. And she was right because ever since I started hiding them, my head's been… clearer. I'm starting to remember my name, my mother, faces of relatives. And Luca. His name feels like warmth and fear all tangled together.
But every time they inject me, or I swallow those pills, the memories scatter again like leaves in a storm.
******
The metallic click of my door made me stiffen.
A nurse stepped in with the same tired smile she wore like part of her uniform. She carried a tray-food, pills, and a glass of water.
"Time for food and pills, Miss Rose. Therapy's in the next hour," she said in that soft, practiced tone. She stayed in the doorway, watching, waiting to make sure I swallowed.
"I want to go home," I said suddenly. My voice surprised even me.
"I want to get out of here."
Something flickered across her face.. sympathy, maybe? But it was gone in a blink.
"This is your home, Rose," she said flatly. She put the tray down and left without another word.
The second the door closed, I grabbed the pills, wrapped them in a scrap of cloth, and slid them under the thin mattress.
Pamela's voice echoed in my head: Don't let them drug you. Your mind is your only weapon in here.
---
An hour later, the hallway alarm buzzed. The sound was metallic and sharp—like it was shaking the air itself. The locks on our doors clicked open in unison.
I stepped out into the hallway, swallowed by the shuffle of hundreds of patients.
The smell of disinfectant clung to the air, mixing with something stale and human.
My eyes scanned desperately, searching for her—Pamela.
A sudden hand grabbed me and yanked me sideways. My heart slammed into my ribs—until I saw those blue eyes.
"Shhh… Follow me, quick."
She pulled me into a narrow side corridor, then through an open door into an empty ward. My pulse was so loud I could hear it in my ears.
---
"We don't have much time," she said, her voice sharp with urgency. "We need to get out of this place. Rose… you're the only one here who still has her mind. The rest—hundreds of them—they're gone. Hollow. This place took them."
Her voice cracked, but she wiped the tear before it could fall.
I swallowed hard. "But… how? There's no exit. I've looked".
The words caught in my throat. Fear was pressing down on me like a hand on my chest.
"I can't tell you everything," she said, glancing toward the door, "but my husband is behind this. He owns this place. He had me taken from my boy… and locked in here."
"Your husband?" The question felt heavy in my mouth. My head throbbed.
"Yes. And trust me… he will pay. I've been planning my escape since the first week I arrived. I've been waiting for the right moment."
She reached inside her gown and pulled something out.
A pen.
I frowned. "A pen? That's your plan?"
Her lips twitched into the faintest smirk. "I stole this from a nurse. Ten years ago. It's the only thing they never took from me. I've been using it to keep track of time. I know I've been here… twenty-three years."
The number punched the air from my lungs.
"Every month," she continued, "a delivery truck comes in through the south gate. Food, uniforms, supplies. That's the only time the outer doors open. I've tracked every visit. There's an exit near the basement storage—but it's locked. Password protected. Only the head nurse knows it."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "If I can get that password before the next truck… we leave. Both of us."
I stared at her. "Why feed us? Why keep us alive?"
Her eyes flicked away. "I don't know. But I found a locked basement door in the west wing. I think there's more down there. I think…" She stopped. "We need that password. Before the next therapy day."
*******
Footsteps. A voice.
"Who's there?"
Pamela's eyes widened. She darted to a second door I hadn't noticed—hidden behind a rusted metal rack. She slipped out without another word.
Something fluttered to the ground where she had been standing.
A photograph.
I picked it up quickly, heart pounding.
A little boy with dark curly hair and blue eyes, holding a toy with a smile that can melt a thousand hearts. The image was grainy and faded, the edges fraying with age.
I didn't have time to study it, the nurse's footsteps were closing in. I shoved the photo into my gown and stepped into the shadows.
The nurse came in, scanning the room slowly. Her eyes passed right over me, she left.
Only then did I pull the photo out again.
The boy's eyes… there was something in them. Something that made my stomach twist.
I didn't know who he was.
Or who the woman beside him might be.
But I knew one thing
This photo didn't belong to me.
It belonged to Pamela.
And somehow, I had a feeling… it was going to change everything .
*******
The corridors of the hidden Psychiatric Hospital smelled faintly of bleach and dampness, as if the walls themselves were trying to swallow the years of despair within them. The overhead lights buzzed with a tired hum, their pale glow washing the ward in a colorless haze.
At the far end, a nurse in a starched uniform pushed an old wheelchair. The woman seated in it looked almost swallowed by the faded blanket draped over her knees. Her hair was white, strands falling loosely over her sunken cheeks, her eyes half-closed as if the world no longer deserved her attention.
She did not look left or right. She did not flinch when another patient shrieked down the hall, or when a tray of medicine clattered against the tiles. Instead, her lips moved with the same steady rhythm as they always did.
"Four… seven… three… nine… two…"
The numbers floated out of her mouth like a chant, soft but relentless, a song only she seemed to know. Then, once the sequence ended, she began again.
"Four… seven… three… nine… two…"
The nurse pushing her didn't react. None of the other staff did either. They had grown used to it the counting, the humming, the endless repetition of those five digits. To them, she was just another ghost drifting through the ward.
But to newcomers the sound had a way of crawling under the skin. More than one had whispered, Why does she keep saying it?
The nurse only tightened her grip on the wheelchair handles and steered her down the corridors
Fate has finally brought rose and Luca's mother together. How do you think luca would react when he finds out that his mum has been alive all these years?
Let me know what you think about this chapter