Chapter 13: The Amber Corridor
The amber emergency lighting cast a sickly, sepia-toned hue over the deserted hallway of the third-floor psychiatric ward. The air was dead and heavy, stripped of the usual clatter of medical carts and whispered conversations between nurses. Dr. Evans pressed his back against the cool wall of the consulting room, his breathing shallow and rapid as he watched Evie step out into the corridor. Nurse Peterson stood like a sentinel a few paces down the hall, her posture rigid, her eyes fixed on the empty space ahead.
""Evie, stop!"" Dr. Evans called out, his voice echoing hollowly in the enclosed space. ""This won't change what the police found. Your parents are in custody, and the system is already moving forward.""
Evie paused, turning her head slightly back toward the doorway, her dark eyes reflecting the pulsing amber glow of the emergency lights. The thick white bandage on her left arm stood out starkly against the gray fabric of her tracksuit.
""The system is just another kind of basement, Doctor,"" Evie replied, her voice carrying clearly down the empty corridor. ""Built by people who are afraid of the dark because they don't know how to turn on the light themselves.""
Without waiting for a response, she turned and began walking down the hallway toward the central nurses' station, her footsteps making no sound against the linoleum floor. Nurse Peterson fell into step behind her, moving with the synchronized precision of a shadow.
Dr. Evans scrambled for his desk phone, smashing the button for internal security, but the line was dead—not even a dial tone, just a heavy, rhythmic hiss of static. He cursed under his breath, bolted for the door, and stepped out into the amber hallway. The ward was deserted, yet every door along the corridor stood slightly ajar, their heavy brass locks thrown back, revealing empty rooms where patients had been housed just hours before.
At the end of the hall, near the double doors leading to the exterior fire escape, a figure stood silhouetted against the rainy night outside. It was Detective Vance, who must have arrived from the precinct minutes earlier, his trench coat soaked with rain, his badge glinting faintly in the emergency light.
May you like
""Vance!"" Dr. Evans shouted, running down the corridor. ""Stop her! She’s manipulated the staff, she’s cleared the entire wing—""
Detective Vance turned slowly, his face expressionless, his eyes dull and unfocused behind the brim of his wet hat. He did not draw his weapon. He simply stood beside the open fire escape door, holding a heavy iron padlock by its brass shackle, exactly like the one David had dropped in the hospital hallway days ago.
