Chapter 9 — The Photograph
490 Words
Chapter 9 — The Photograph
Travis barely slept that night.
The photograph of Daniel kept returning to his thoughts.
If the date was genuine, then Daniel had been at Westbridge Hospital the previous day.
If it wasn't genuine, someone had gone to extraordinary lengths to make Travis believe otherwise.
Neither possibility was comforting.
At 7:15 the following morning, Travis arrived at the hospital.
The receptionist handed him an envelope.
“This was left for you.”
There was no name.
Only his.
He opened it carefully.
Inside was an old photograph.
It showed Westbridge Hospital.
The building looked different—older, darker, almost abandoned.
Travis turned it over.
Nothing.
Then he noticed another photograph underneath.
His hands stopped moving.
The second photograph showed a young man entering the hospital.
Travis.
He knew it immediately.
But the photograph looked impossibly old.
He studied the face.
The same eyes.
The same scar above his eyebrow.
The same posture.
On the back were five words:
You don't remember her.
Travis felt his stomach tighten.
He searched the hospital archives.
Nothing.
His employment records began years after the photograph appeared to have been taken.
Yet there he was.
Inside Westbridge Hospital.
Why?
He heard footsteps behind him.
He turned.
May stood at the end of the archive corridor.
“How did you get in here?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she walked toward him.
“You found it.”
“What?”
“The photograph.”
Travis held it up.
“You knew about this?”
May nodded.
“You've been here before.”
“I've never worked here before.”
“That's not what I said.”
Travis stared at her.
“Who is the girl?”
May looked at the photograph.
Her expression changed.
“You really don't remember.”
“Remember what?”
She stepped closer.
“Me.”
Travis felt the words like a physical blow.
“You were here fourteen years ago,” she whispered.
“That would make you—”
“I know.”
She stopped herself.
For the first time, May looked genuinely frightened.
A noise came from behind the archive shelves.
Someone was there.
Travis turned.
Nothing.
When he looked back, May was staring at the photograph.
“Why would someone leave this for me?”
“Because they want you to remember.”
“Remember what?”
May swallowed.
“That you promised to help me.”
Before Travis could ask another question, the archive door opened.
The hospital director stood there.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
“Dr. Hale,” he said.
Travis quickly put the photograph away.
“Director.”
The director looked at May.
Then at Travis.
“You should both stop searching for things that were buried for a reason.”
He walked away.
May whispered:
“Now you understand.”
“Understand what?”
She looked toward the corridor.
“You were never supposed to remember me.”
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