Morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft golden hue across the room. A gentle breeze stirred the curtains as the girl slowly roused from her sleep. She stretched her arms, a serene smile tugging at the corners of her lips as the warmth of the sun enveloped her. The new day felt peaceful, as if the world were offering a quiet embrace.
She slipped out of bed, her feet meeting the cool wooden floor, and walked toward the bathroom. Splashing cold water on her face, she hummed a soft tune, the sound echoing faintly off the tiles. As she stepped into the shower, there was a lightness in her movements, as if the world was inviting her to step forward, to take it all in.
After getting dressed in a simple outfit, she quickly made herself a modest breakfast—toast with a cup of warm tea. Sitting at the small kitchen table, she savored the calmness of the moment. Everything felt ordinary. Peaceful. Still.
With her bag slung over her shoulder, she left the house and made her way to the train station. The hustle of commuters filled the air, but it didn't faze her. She slid into an empty seat on the train, pulled out a thick book from her bag, and began to read. It wasn't light reading—but it helped her focus.
"When does someone get diagnosed with a psychotic disorder?""People can become obsessed with anything—money, food, hobbies, even love. But it only becomes a problem when those obsessions start to take over their reality."
She read the passage aloud, her voice low, almost a whisper. Her eyes narrowed slightly as the words lingered in her mind, leaving a cold sensation at the back of her neck. But she brushed it off quickly. Today wasn't about overthinking. Today was about proving herself.
When the train pulled into her stop, she tucked the book away and stood up with purpose. The hospital was nearby, and soon enough, she was at the front desk, asking for directions. It didn't take long for her to reach the room where the interview would take place.
Inside, a serious-looking doctor sat at his desk, flipping through a file. Across from him, a patient sat, staring off into space with glazed eyes. The air was heavy, filled with an unsettling stillness.
The doctor looked up when she entered. "You're here for the interview?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yes. That's me."
"Good," he said, his tone clipped. "Your task is simple. Evaluate this patient. Tell me if he's mentally sound."
She walked toward the patient slowly, her eyes studying him closely. His expression was distant, his gaze fixed somewhere far away. She paused for a moment, then, with a calm but warm voice, she tried to engage him.
She picked up a bowl from the table and held it out to him. "Hey," she said, offering a smile. "The ramen's getting cold. You should eat it while it's still hot."
But there was no response. The patient didn't move, didn't speak. He simply continued staring into nothingness.
She hesitated for a split second but didn't back down. With quiet assurance, she turned to the doctor. "He's coherent. He knows what's going on. He's aware."
The doctor raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. He stepped toward the patient, his voice a little more forceful.
"Come on, kid," he said. "Why aren't you eating?"
The patient remained still for a long moment. Then, in a voice that barely rose above a whisper, he spoke.
"I only eat ramen with egg. There's no egg in this. And it looks too spicy."
The girl blinked. The response was unexpected, yet clear and logical, almost as if it made perfect sense.
Before she could say anything else, the door swung open. A nurse rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. "Doctor—bed 744… He's gone. He's dead."
The room froze.
The girl's pulse quickened. She turned to the doctor, confusion and alarm flooding her chest.
"Dead?" the doctor repeated, his voice strained. "How?"
The nurse shook her head, her voice trembling with disbelief. "He was laughing, doctor. Laughing like it was a game. He… he ripped off his own fingernails. One by one. Then he shoved them down his throat."
Her voice broke as she continued, "He choked himself. To death."
The girl's stomach twisted. Her chest felt tight, a knot forming deep within.
Behind her, the patient finally moved. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his head. A crooked, unsettling grin stretched across his face. His eyes glinted with something unnatural—too bright, too alive.
The girl stepped back, heart racing.
"When do people really get called insane?" she whispered, almost to herself.
No one answered.
The nurse stood frozen, eyes wide. The doctor, too, stood silent, staring at the patient, unable to speak.
And in that moment, everything she thought she knew... cracked.