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The corridor was silent for a moment, but Anaya knew it was only a pause.
She pressed forward, her flashlight cutting through the darkness, when she started to hear soft murmurs behind the walls.
At first, they were indistinct — low, almost like someone talking in a dream.
But gradually, the voices grew clearer, pleading:
> "Help… don't let them take me back… please…"
Her heart raced. The walls seemed to breathe, the paint cracking and oozing as though alive. Every echo bounced, twisting into screams that seemed to come from all directions at once.
Anaya pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block it out, but one sound pierced through — a woman screaming her name.
> "Anaya… Anaya…"
She realized, with a shiver that went to her bones, that the hospital itself was alive with trapped souls, and each scream was a memory of pain that refused to die.
The walls weren't just holding echoes — they were warning her.