The lights above flicker in a sickening dance, casting jagged shadows across the hallway. The air smells of old blood, decay, and fear, but he grew to like it. He’d been here a long time, hiding in the cracks, watching people come and go. But this person—they were different. He could hear their heartbeat, slow and steady, but he knows it won’t stay that way for long. Their footsteps are hesitant, like they know something is wrong, but they didn’t know what.

He’d seen them all—doctors, guards, lost souls—but none like them. They’re curious, poking at the brokenness like they can fix it. But they’re wrong. They won’t fix anything. No one ever does.

Still, he remained in that small room down that hallway, pressing down on the keys of the old piano that had grown to be his only sense of comfort.