With no way to discern how much time had passed, I left everything to interpretation and the ever-growing green that littered the land. Before, I felt as if I knew what was wrong here; a guess was that it really was, but standing in front of it, however, changed my perception. In reality, it seemed like this town was going back to the way it was, without the decay that had settled when I arrived, but there was more. Gryce's mom's condition made that clear. The pit in Gryce's stomach and the flooding memories of her, good and bad times, when her face wasn't milky white, and her eyes weren't as bright as the sun, a shrewd yellow that'd never leave the back of my head.
Learning more about humans, that was still my purpose here; I knew that for a fact, helping Gryce so that he could join a world that didn't hurt as much. But this town seemed beyond saving, even the green wanted them gone. Who was I to deny nature of its purpose when it hadn't apprehended mine? We were cut from the same root, shared the same dirt, and fed on the same sun. The problems of humans were null in it all; they were in the crossfire of oblivion. That's what it was thinking; a part of me felt the same way.
The entrance to the hospital was a forest, with large oak trees sprouting from the corpses of many trees that Gryce's father seemed fixated on. Dark, loud, and above all else, endless. Made me think about how many humans must have been infected to create such lush greenery. I could only assume from the wails that the hospital had much more room than before. Even muffled by the walls, I could still hear them at night begging for either death or for their beloved sun to return.
Gryce's father seemed affected by their noise, plugging his ears, muffling their screams with layers of pillows, but there was nothing he could do. But that wouldn't stop his fixation, or rather, the horror of the situation they'd find themselves in.
There weren't many doctors left, and whoever was there didn't stay simply because of the trees. No one knew what happened when you stepped inside the lush green, but they were confident the pretty noises would drive them far, far away, never to be seen again. Even after such a time, it had received its own story as they would never realize the truth.
Even after everything I'd seen thus far, Gryce's mother still seemed like an oddity. Lucid, aware of her surroundings, could respond to Gryce's father when he asked her a question, but her eyes were lifeless. They reminded me of that man in the forest, dull milky eyes as if they were staring at something only they could perceive. You could find many like them amongst the quiet rooms that lined ours, a continuous beeping that at the end I could only hear one word, and that was death. So much death in one place. And yet she wasn't one of them.
I'm not sure how long we were there until Gryce's father decided enough was enough, and we'd leave immediately. Maybe it was when green vines began seeping through the left wall or when said vines began squirming like tentacles.
With Gryce's father holding his wife, her legs lanky, confused, almost as if they were unfamiliar with the texture, afraid to touch it for so long. At some point, I felt more like an observer instead of their child. I'm not sure when it started, but Gryce's father seemed distant–afraid, that's what it was. It was a look of fear. I'd seen Gryce come home with that exact face; it looked so familiar. I'm not sure how I hadn't noticed before. But it made me sad. I wish I knew why.
At some point, the roots of the trees had dismantled the exit, choking the metal until it bent to its will and was strung like a beast's pelt. Smelled of grass and flowers, enticing to all things besides me; under normal circumstances, that is. I still had his brain, and it wanted nothing more than to suckle on nectar the trees extruded from their pores. I resisted it, but the hunger I felt was palpable—gluttony of the highest order. Gryce's father was feeling the full force of it, and as we stepped into the wet cauldron of the forest's gullet, his stature began to wane. As much as I resisted the urge to help, my eyes couldn't bear to see either of them fall victim to it.
At first glance, there wasn't much terrain we had to go through, but it was the sheer density of it that made it difficult to help them. But I realized soon enough that there wasn't anything I could do in the first place.
Their wailings morphed into a different tune as we continued, a soft melody that lulled you into a state of dependency. Stay here; it's safe; open the door; come with us. They promised without saying a word. After so long, I could hardly stand; whatever resistance I thought I had was null. His parents must've been going through worse. I was wrong.
It only took one look for me to realize that this amalgamation of trees spawned not for any other purpose but to sway me. Ahead, they'd already breached light while I squandered in shadow, extending my hand to another. As I opened the Green Door.