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/Forgotten bonds break never truly/
𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯
𝔗he hospital was never a place where Melanie truly felt at ease. She never liked the smell of infectious agents or medications that fester in the air like ghosts from another life. She hated to think about the pain and death that was rooted in the room and was buried deep in pristine sheaths like a shadow never touched by light. A reason why she often tried to avoid the Infirmary.
A silver needle - sharp and deadly - was implanted deep in pale flesh. The once vibrant glowing skin of the girl had lost a lot of color over the years. It now looked dulled, sickly. All around her doctors and nurses filled the small patient room, scurrying around like startled ants. The scent of blood lingered on places forgotten to be cleaned and a faint smell of helplessness and sorrow clung to the wall.
Next to her - a cry. It pierced through the air like a blade and stabbed Melanie three times through the heart. But the doctors didn't stir, weren't fazed by the all but unfamiliar sound of pain and horror. After all this was a hospital and more than that, this was the wing for patients on death doors. The girl didn't know when most of the people left, and didn't hear the sound of footsteps that drummed against the hard floor. Only when a hand - warm and steady, but with an underlying tension - was placed on her shoulder, did she realize that she was alone. Well, almost alone.
