08:05

The corridor stretches endlessly. Faces blur past—colleagues, patients, ghosts. I can't distinguish between them anymore. My steps carry a dense sound, each one feeling like it might shatter the floor beneath me.

"Dr. Reyes, your next patient—"

I cut Anna off with a wave. Words feel dangerous now. Opening my mouth might let the screams out.

08:10

Another room. Another soul seeking salvation.

But I'm drowning, and how can I save anyone when I can't even breathe?

"I've been having these thoughts,"

the patient begins. I nod, but inside, laughter bubbles up. Thoughts? If only he knew the maelstrom raging in my head.

08:15

His words fade to static. The room warps, stretching and contracting with each blink. Emily stands behind him, her skin ashen, eyes accusing.

"You're not listening,"

she hisses.

"Just like you didn't listen when I begged you to stop."

I dig my nails into my palms, blood welling up. The pain anchors me, but for how long?

08:20

"Doctor?"

The patient leans forward, concern etched on his face.

"You look pale."

I force a smile. It feels like my face might crack.

"Continue,"

I manage. But inside, she's screaming. Run. Run before I infect you too.

“Run. Run before I infect you too.”

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08:25

The session blurs. I'm losing time. Losing myself. When I blink, the patient transforms—Emily, then back again. Reality is slipping through my fingers like sand.

08:30

I stand abruptly.

"We're done for today."

Confusion. Hurt. I don't care. I need to escape. The hallway spins as I stumble out. Whispers follow me. Judging. Accusing.

"She's losing it."

"Poor thing."

"Should she even be practicing?"

08:35

I lock myself in a supply closet. The darkness is a relief, but it's alive, pulsing with malevolence. I slide down the wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"It's all unraveling, isn't it?"

Emily's voice, right next to my ear.

"Good. You deserve this."

08:40

A knock at the door.

"Dr. Reyes? Are you in there?"

I bite down on my hand to stifle a scream. They can't find me. They can't see what I've become.

08:45

The door handle jiggles. I press myself further into the corner, willing myself to disappear.

"Elena?"

It's Dr. Marquez.

"We're worried about you."

Laughter bubbles up in my throat. Worried? They should be terrified.

08:50

The door opens. Light floods in, blinding. Dr. Marquez's face swims into view, concern etched deep.

"Oh, Elena,"

he whispers. But as he reaches for me, his features shift. Twist. It's not Dr. Marquez anymore. It's me—or what I might become. Older. Haggard. Eyes wild with madness. It grins, teeth sharp and gleaming.

"Welcome home,"

it says.

08:55

I scream. The world fractures. Splinters. In the fragments of her shattered reality, she sees glimpses:

* Myself, strapped to a hospital bed, thrashing and raving, the restraints biting into my flesh as I scream into nothingness, my desperate cries swallowed by the sterile, suffocating silence.

* Emily, alive and well, her smile a chilling mask of pity, eyes vacant yet filled with an unsettling understanding of my damnation.

* The hospital, but wrong—walls oozing with thick, dark blood, the acrid scent of decay hanging in the air, corridors that twist and coil like serpents, leading nowhere but deeper into an abyss of despair.

“Which is real? Am I the doctor or the patient? The savior or the monster?”

09:00

As consciousness slips away, one thought remains, pulsing like a dying star:

I am lost.

I am found.

I am becoming.

And in the darkness that claims me, something laughs.

Something that wears my face, but isn't me.

Not yet.