07:00

The hospital feels wrong, suffocating. Each step down the hallway drags me further into something I no longer understand. The walls are too close, the fluorescent lights drone like a swarm of insects, and the sterile air clings to my skin as if trying to suffocate me.

I force myself forward, ignoring the twisting sensation in my gut. They’re waiting for me. Patients. Faces hollowed by anguish. Souls hungry for answers I don’t have.

“Dr. Reyes,”

Anna calls out, her voice cutting through the haze.

“Your first patient is ready.”

I pause, the words sinking like stones into my chest, pulling me deeper. I nod, unable to speak, and make my way toward the examination room. My hands tremble as I reach for the doorknob. I think of peeling my skin off just to feel something real.

07:05

Inside, the room feels colder than I remember, the chairs too far apart, the air dense with ghosts. He’s there—a young man, head bent, fingers nervously tracing the edges of the table. He won’t look at me, but I can feel the weight of his despair pressing into me like a knife.

“Good morning,”

I manage, though the voice that escapes my lips feels like a stranger’s, a mere echo of her—the doctor I’m supposed to be.

“I’m Dr. Reyes. What brings you in today?”

He looks up, and the emptiness in his eyes hits me like a blow.

“I… don’t know.”

His voice is raw, like someone dragging nails across bone.

07:10

I sit down, my legs threatening to give way beneath me. My notepad feels heavy in my hands, a cruel joke.

“You’re supposed to help him,”

I tell myself, but my mind is already slipping somewhere else—somewhere darker. He starts to speak, his words fractured and uncertain, weaving a story of loneliness and pain. But I can’t focus. The room shifts, his voice fades, and then I hear her.

"You should have saved me."

Her voice—Emily’s voice—is louder now, cutting through him like he isn’t even there. I blink, shaking my head, trying to push her down.

07:15

I try to redirect.

“It sounds like you’re feeling trapped, like there’s no way out,”

I say, forcing myself to sound calm.

“That’s okay. We can work on this together.”

My voice cracks on the last word, and I see him notice. He studies me, his gaze sharp despite the exhaustion in his face.

“Are you okay, Doctor?”

The question lingers, venomous, because I don’t know the answer.

07:20

His story continues, but I can’t follow it. My mind is splintering; reality shifts like a mirage. I see Emily—her lifeless eyes, her small body, the machines that failed to save her. I hear the flatline, the sound that still haunts my dreams.

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"You let me die,"

she whispers, and her voice is everywhere, consuming me. I’m losing control. My fingers grip the edge of the desk, knuckles white, nails biting into the wood.

07:25

I close my eyes, but the memory surges forward, unstoppable. I see her lying there, pale and motionless, the monitors around her silent. I see my reflection in the glass, my face twisted in disbelief.

How did this happen?

“Dr. Reyes?”

His voice pulls me back, sharp and cutting. He’s staring at me now, wary, unsure. I can’t tell if it’s concern or fear in his eyes.

How does he know my name?

A fleeting panic rushes through me before I remember the name tag clipped to my blouse. I can’t tell if it’s concern or fear in his eyes, but the knowledge that he sees me—the real me—sends a chill down my spine.

“Are… are you okay?”

I force a smile, the mask slipping for just a moment.

“I’m fine,”

I lie.

“Let’s focus on you.”

07:30

But he knows. I can see it in his expression. The fractures in my façade are too wide to hide, too obvious even for him to ignore. And as his story continues, I’m not really listening. My mind is drowning in a tidal wave of guilt.

"You let me die."

The words repeat, each syllable driving deeper, tearing me apart from the inside. I want to scream, to claw at my skin, to rip myself open and release everything festering beneath. But I don’t. I just nod, pretending to care, pretending to help.

07:35

Somehow, the session ends. His gratitude is a dagger in my chest.

“Thank you,”

he says softly, as if I’ve done something to deserve it.

“I feel a little better now.”

I force another smile, hollow and brittle.

“That’s good. You’re not alone in this.”

He leaves, and I’m left standing there, the words echoing in the empty room like a taunt.

You’re not alone. But I am. Aren’t I?

07:40

The silence presses in, crushing, suffocating. I sit down at my desk, my hands trembling as I reach for the next file. My vision blurs as I see her name again—Emily. Her face flashes in my mind, her wide, empty eyes.

“You should have saved me.”

“Why did you want me to die?”

I can’t breathe. My chest tightens, my lungs burn. The room spins around me.

07:45

I drop the file and sink to the floor, gasping, clawing at my throat as if I can tear away the invisible weight crushing me. My thoughts spiral, my control slipping further away. The whispers grow louder, overlapping, relentless.

“Failure. Fraud. Murderer.”

They claw at my mind, stripping away every lie I’ve told myself. I don’t know who I am anymore.

"You’re the patient,"

a voice whispers. Emily’s voice.

“Stop it,”

I rasp, my voice barely audible.

“Please, stop.”

07:50

But it doesn’t stop. The walls pulse with every breath, the fluorescent lights turn harsh and blinding. My reflection in the window stares back at me, but it’s wrong. Too dark, too twisted. It smiles, and I feel something inside me crack.

07:55

I curl into myself, my back pressed against the cold, unyielding tiles. The clock ticks above me, but it sounds wrong—warped, distorted, dragging me further into the void. I failed her. I failed them all.

08:00

I should stop. I should leave. But I can’t. She won’t let me. This person—this mask I wear—drags me forward, forces every step, every breath, every empty smile.

“But who is she? Doctor? Fraud?”

The lines blur, twisting like tendrils in the dark. I am trapped in this endless cycle of guilt and pretense, sinking further with every moment, further from knowing who I am—or who I was meant to be.

Something stirs in the shadows.

Something I cannot name.

It presses closer, the air thick and unrelenting, persistently crawling beneath my—no, her skin. I can feel it—heavy, suffocating, alive.

It’s closer now.

It’s always been closer, a malignant presence lurking in the shadows of my mind.

And it wears my face.