JASON
The hospital looked like it had swallowed every drop of color and spat out nothing but bleach and sickness. The automatic doors whooshed open as we pushed through, and the sharp stink of disinfectant slammed into my nose, burning like I’d shoved my face into a vat of chemicals.
Reed was the first one to break the silence, muttering, “Jesus, this place smells like death and mop water,” and Sienna smacked his arm with a disgusted look that didn’t actually stop him from snickering.
Evie clutched the visitor slip so tight her knuckles whitened, like some nurse was about to jump us and demand she prove her right to exist in here. Our sneakers squeaked across the polished tile floors, the sound too loud in a place where everyone spoke in hushed voices, like normal volume might shatte
