The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air — sharp, sterile, and cold. It crawled into Mansh's nose and clung to his throat like a warning. The kind of smell that reminded you of sickness, of things that couldn't be fixed with a mere touch or word. It coated the walls of the corridor like invisible dust. Everything here was too clean. Too quiet.
Mansh stood still, his fingers curled tightly making a fist, shoulders rigid. The faint whirring of the ceiling fan overhead did little to soothe the tension in his spine. His gaze was fixed—unblinking—on the receptionist's fingers as they danced across the keyboard, each keystroke a tiny explosion in the silence between them.
Click.
Click.
Click.
Each sound struck his ears like a warning bell, like a signal echoing from deep within a dream he couldn't wake from. The only movement came from her hands — pale, with a slight tremble in the knuckles, perhaps from fatigue, perhaps from too many names and too many families to care about. She didn't even look at him. Her eyes stayed locked to the screen, her face illuminated in dull blue light that gave her features a ghostly stillness.
Mansh's heart wasn't just pounding — it was thrashing. Like a trapped bird beating its wings in a cage of ribs, desperate for an exit that didn't exist. The rhythm echoed up into his throat and settled beneath his skin, humming like electricity. He felt too hot, then too cold. His body couldn't decide what to do with the fear stretching through his chest.
His mind churned — thoughts spiraling into chaos, voices rising like a storm in his head.
'Did the shadow take him?'
The thought came uninvited, ugly and sharp.
'No… no, the shadow never harmed anyone in the novel. Not directly. Not like that…'
But uncertainty wrapped itself around him like a noose. Tightening. Pulling.
'Then where is he? He wouldn't just leave. He wouldn't—he wouldn't just vanish. Did he go home? No, he wouldn't without telling me. Did he go to my house? No, that doesn't make sense either…'
His nails dug into his palms. The pain was minimal — he welcomed it. It gave him something to feel. Something to anchor himself with. His fingers trembled slightly, and he quickly shoved them into the pockets of his hoodie, pretending he was cold. He wasn't. He was burning from the inside out.
'Where are you, Ankhush?' The name echoed, too loud in the fragile silence of his thoughts. Each syllable carried weight, memories, warmth. 'Where are you?'
The receptionist finally paused. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, then she glanced up.
Her eyes met his for the first time — bored, clinical, utterly detached.
"No," she said flatly, her voice as emotionless as the walls around them. "He wasn't discharged. He's scheduled to leave tomorrow."
The words didn't register immediately. They arrived delayed — like they'd traveled through water, thick and distorted.
Then came the follow-up, spoken with a faint crease of annoyance in her brow.
"Are you sure he's not in the restroom?"
Mansh's head snapped side to side in a desperate shake. "He's not in the room," he said quickly, his voice sharper than he intended. His mouth was dry. He swallowed, tried again. "Please… can you send someone to check?"
There was a pause — small, but heavy.
The receptionist tilted her head slightly, her gaze flicking over him as if measuring his desperation for signs of overreaction. He didn't move. Didn't blink. His body was a statue carved from tension and fear. After what felt like a small eternity, she sighed and picked up the phone.
The quiet clack of the receiver made Mansh flinch.
She began dialing. One slow number at a time. The waiting was unbearable. Time bent and twisted around him. The hospital's hum continued — machines murmuring behind closed doors, the distant squeak of rubber soles against polished tile, a cough echoing from another room. The world went on. Indifferent.
But for Mansh, nothing was moving forward. Everything was frozen inside that moment.
A boy was missing.
Not just a boy — his friend. His one real anchor to reality.
****
A/N: sorry because of school I was not able to upload yesterday but I am doing it now so it does not matter I suppose.
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