Pale's breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "Wait... what? Who's there?" he muttered, his eyes darting wildly around the sterile room.
Mr. and Mrs. Lee stood at the foot of his bed, their expressions frozen in masks of parental concern. But the voice in Pale's head rumbled again, dripping with sudden venom.
Look at them, the voice growled. Those fake smiles. Don't you think it's weird? They are all smiling, but their eyes are as cold as stone.
Pale's panic surged, visible to everyone in the room. His sudden outburst sent the staff into a frenzy. Nurse Nina and Dr. J exchanged worried glances, sensing the patient was reaching a breaking point.
"Madam, Mister, I must ask you all to step outside," Dr. J commanded, his voice firm and professional. "The patient is not in a state to have a conversation right now. We need to stabilize him."
As the room cleared and the heavy door clicked shut, Pale's mind remained a battlefield. What do you mean they are all lying? he thought desperately, clutching the hospital sheets.
Their smiles are sickening, the voice replied with a sneer. And you felt it too, didn't you? When you look at that girl—Sarah—your stomach turns as if you've swallowed a handful of jagged rocks. Your body knows the truth even if your mind doesn't.
What are you talking about? Pale pleaded, his head throbbing with the effort of the internal conversation.
Listen, brat, something is not right here, the voice snapped. To put it simply, we are in a tight spot. Because you acted like an idiot and started shouting at the air, everyone here is going to assume we've gone crazy. We have to be smart.
Pale froze, the weight of the realization sinking in. Wait... you really think so?
The door opened again. Dr. J re-entered alone, looking at Pale with a sharp, calculating gaze. He didn't look like a man concerned for a patient; he looked like a man solving a puzzle.
"Honor?" the doctor said, the name hanging in the air like a question.
Pale looked around the empty room, confused. He pointed a trembling finger at his own chest. "Are... are you talking to me?"
Dr. J adjusted his glasses, his tone becoming chillingly clinical. "I have decided that you are being moved to a private facility—a hospital for people who, let's say, have 'trouble in the head.' I believe you understand exactly what I mean."
Pale's blood ran cold. "Wait..." he stammered, his eyes widening in shock. "Are you telling me I'm being sent to a mental hospital? I'm not crazy! I swear I'm not!"
Pale reached out, his voice becoming desperate, but Dr. J cut him off abruptly. "Exactly. This is what I'm talking about. You're erratic, desperate, and unstable."
"Doc, please, I'm not—"
"I'll be leaving now," Dr. J interrupted, his hand already on the cold metal handle. He stepped out and shut the door with a heavy click.
"Somebody please! Open the door!" Pale screamed, throwing himself against the wood. He fumbled with the lock, his fingers trembling and useless. "Somebody help me! I'm not crazy!"
He slumped against the door, his sobs echoing against the sterile walls. For the first time, the "fighting" voice in his head was silent, leaving him alone in the dark.