Part 2:
“No…” Daniel whispered, the single syllable escaping like a breath stolen from his lungs. The hospital bracelet on the teddy bear—yellowed, broken, familiar—bore the name Sarah Hayes.
His sister. The sister who had died twenty years ago in this very hospital, holding this exact bear.
“Doctor!” the nurse’s voice snapped him back to the frantic reality of the ER. “Heart rate is plummeting!”
Daniel forced his gaze away from the bear and onto the monitor. The steady rhythm had dissolved into chaotic spikes. He pushed the impossible realization aside, the instinct of a seasoned doctor taking over.
“Push epinephrine! Get the crash cart ready!” he commanded, his voice tight but authoritative.
They rushed the girl into Trauma Room 1. The chaotic ballet of emergency medicine commenced. Daniel worked mechanically, his hands moving with practiced precision while his mind reeled. Who is she? How did she know my name? How does she have Sarah’s bear?
As they worked, the girl’s vitals stabilized, miraculously, just as quickly as they had crashed. The monitor settled into a steady, rhythmic beep. The tension in the room broke, replaced by exhausted sighs.
“Good job, everyone,” Daniel said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears.
He stood by the bed, staring down at the sleeping girl. She looked to be about six years old, with pale skin and dark hair fanned out across the stark white pillow. The teddy bear was tucked securely under her arm.
“Doctor Hayes?” A young nurse, Emily, approached him hesitantly. “Did she say your name?”
Daniel hesitated. He could still feel the phantom grip of her small hand on his wrist, hear the chilling whisper: “Don’t let me die again… Daniel.”
“She… I thought she did,” he lied, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “It was probably just the delirium.”
Emily nodded, though she looked unconvinced. “Her chart says Jane Doe. They found her wandering near the old abandoned wing.”
Daniel’s blood ran cold. The abandoned wing. The pediatric ward where Sarah had spent her final days. The wing that had been sealed off for over a decade.
He needed answers. And he knew exactly where to start.
Leaving the girl under Emily’s watchful eye, Daniel strode out of Trauma Room 1 and headed towards the archives. The hospital’s records were a labyrinth of forgotten lives, but Daniel knew exactly what he was looking for.
He found the file buried under years of dust. Sarah Hayes.
He flipped through the familiar pages, his heart aching with every word. The diagnosis. The treatments. The final, heartbreaking entry. Time of death: 2:43 AM.
But as he reached the end of the file, he noticed something he had never seen before. A small, handwritten note tucked into the back cover.
Patient exhibited unusual brain activity post-mortem. Further investigation required.
The handwriting belonged to Dr. Aris Thorne, the hospital’s eccentric former chief of research. Thorne had vanished years ago, leaving behind a trail of rumors and unanswered questions.
Daniel stared at the note, a chilling realization dawning on him. The girl wasn’t just a coincidence. She was a puzzle piece. And the abandoned wing held the rest of the picture.
He pocketed the note and hurried back to Trauma Room 1. The room was empty.
“Emily!” Daniel shouted, panic rising in his chest. “Where is she?”
Emily rushed in, her eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know! I turned my back for one second, and she was gone!”
Daniel didn’t wait. He sprinted down the corridor, his mind racing. He knew exactly where she had gone.
The abandoned wing.
As he reached the sealed doors, a cold draft swept past him, carrying with it the faint scent of antiseptic and old paper. The heavy metal doors were slightly ajar.
Daniel pushed them open, stepping into the darkness. The air was thick with dust and secrets.
“Sarah?” he called out, his voice trembling.
The only answer was the echoing silence of the abandoned ward. But as he walked deeper into the darkness, a faint glow caught his eye.
A single monitor, flickering to life in one of the old patient rooms.
And on the screen, a single word flashed in bright green letters:
Welcome back, Dr. Hayes.
👉 To be continued in Part 3…
