The sterile scent of disinfectant still clung to the air, a stark contrast to the musty odor that now permeated the hospital corridors. Their eyes fluttered open, a dull ache throbbing behind them. The fluorescent lights overhead, once a comforting hum, now seemed harsh and alien. They were in a hospital bed, a thin gown clinging to their small frame. White walls, a metal bed rail, the rhythmic beep of a machine – it was all so familiar, yet so wrong.

They remembered the crash. Flashing lights, the screech of tires, a blinding impact. Then… darkness. A long, dreamless sleep. Before that, there were laughter, warm hugs, bedtime stories. A life that felt impossibly distant now. They tried to move their head, a sharp pain lancing through their neck. They looked around the room. Empty. Their parents weren't here. Where were they?

A sliver of light peeked from beneath the door. It was slightly ajar. Hesitantly, they pushed themself up, their small legs dangling over the side of the bed. They shuffled towards the door, their bare feet cold against the linoleum floor. They reached out a trembling hand and nudged it open further.

Standing in the doorway was a man. Or, what used to be a man. His jaw hung loose, a grotesque display of decaying flesh. Dark, dried blood matted his hair and stained his tattered hospital gown. His eyes were milky and vacant, staring ahead, yet not seeing. He was a shambling, grotesque figure, a creature born of nightmares. They froze, a silent scream trapped in their throat. This was it. The thing they’d seen in hushed whispers, in fragmented news reports before the world outside this room had truly gone silent.

But the creature didn't lunge. It didn't snarl or attempt to bite. Instead, with a slow, jerky movement, it turned its head, its vacant gaze sweeping over them without any discernible flicker of recognition. Then, with a soft, guttural moan that was more a sigh than a threat, it shuffled past the doorway, its footsteps echoing unnervingly down the deserted hall.

They watched, breathless, as the shambling figure disappeared around the corner. They were left alone again, the hospital room suddenly feeling both safer and infinitely more terrifying. Why hadn't it attacked? Were they ignoring them? Did they think they were one of them, already dead? Or was this something else entirely? A twisted mercy? They didn't understand. They were a child, lost in a world that had ceased to make sense. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the steady, impersonal beep of the machine beside their bed. They looked down at their small, clean hands, then back at the open doorway, the emptiness outside a chilling invitation.