Rain's POV:
Tears run unchecked down my face as I bolt down the corridor.
My footsteps echo.
My breath echoes.
Even my shame echoes.
The white lobby stretches on and on, too bright, too clean, like it's deliberately giving me nowhere to hide.
Every sob ricochets off the walls and comes back twice as loud, like the building itself is agreeing that I deserve it.
I stab the elevator button.
My hand slips.
I jab it again.
The doors slide open too fast.
I swipe at my face, furious, rubbing until my skin burns, but the tears keep coming.
They blur the world, turn everything into salt and water.
The guilt sits right under my collarbone ,heavy, stubborn, and damn near impossible to swallow.
His voice rings through my skull, steady as a metronome.
Not a doctor.
Not a doctor.
Not a doctor.
The doors open again and I'm moving before they've finished.
Practically sprinting.
Back to my wing.
My prison.
