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"Room 200," I muttered under my breath as I ran through the corridors. The hospital was different from what I had imagined. It was huge. Patients were constantly flooding in, and nurses were rushing back and forth.

I made my way up the escalator, seeing the first signs of hope. Room 192. You must be near, I hoped.

"196, 197. Where's 198?" I let out a cry of frustration. "199, 200, it's here." I stopped in front of the door. This was not what I had expected.

I had expected myself to barge in when I finally found your room. You would be sitting on the bed, smiling and asking me why I took such a long time. However, the numbers stared back at me. My hands stayed glued to my sides.

You were inside. Was I ready to see you? Would you be surprised? What if you were doing worse than I had imagined? What would I do?

Millions of thoughts ran through my mind as I finally picked up the courage and tightened my grip around the handle.

When the door opened, I saw you.

You were tied to machines like a marionette, your skin a sickly pale and the evening moon casting light through the window.

You weren't lying when you said that your hair was like caramel. Your lashes were long. Your lips were chapped and pale, and your hands were like mine on the first day that we met. Cold.

I reached for your face, caressing it gently. "I'm here," I whispered.

But you didn't move.

The next thing I knew, nurses were storming into the room and I was escorted out, tears running down my face.

You were right behind the door, yet I couldn't reach you no matter how hard I tried.

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