Beneath the Hearts

Pattern Emerges

The cramped apartment was silent except for the occasional creak of the wooden floor as Arya paced. Rihan sat on the edge of the couch, hunched over the map they had retrieved from the clocktower, his sharp eyes scanning the faint red circles that dotted the faded surface. Each mark seemed innocuous at first, like arbitrary choices made on a whim, but the more Arya stared, the more she could feel the calculated nature of their placement.

“It’s a spiral,” she muttered under her breath, breaking the silence.

Rihan didn’t look up. “What?”

She crouched beside the coffee table, her finger tracing the path the red circles created. “It’s a spiral, leading inward. Look—it starts here.” She tapped the clocktower’s location. “And it ends… here.” Her finger stopped on the center of the city, near a block of nondescript buildings.

Rihan leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “If it’s a spiral, then it’s a path,” he said. “Someone—or something—wants people to follow it.”

Arya frowned, her brows knitting together. “But why? And why are these places chosen?”

Rihan gestured to the map. “Look at the locations. The clocktower, for one—abandoned, full of weird symbols and hidden things. The next one…” He trailed off as his eyes landed on the next red circle, slightly to the southeast. “St. Anne’s Hospital. Ever heard of it?”

Arya stiffened, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. “Yeah. My mother used to work there. It closed after the fire… years ago.”

He raised an eyebrow, sensing the unease in her tone. “Did she ever talk about it?”

“Not much,” Arya admitted, rising to her feet and crossing her arms. “She said it wasn’t the kind of place you’d want to remember. And I didn’t ask questions. I was a kid back then.”

Rihan smirked. “Let me guess—you didn’t believe in ghost stories and spooky hospital legends?”

Arya shot him a glare. “I don’t believe in anything without evidence. But considering the night we’ve had, I’m starting to think my skepticism might have been misplaced.”

Rihan chuckled dryly, but the tension between them was palpable. The map, with its cryptic marks and unanswered questions, felt like it was daring them to dig deeper.

“What do you think the spiral leads to?” Arya asked, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Rihan shrugged, his expression darkening. “Answers, maybe. Or more trouble. Either way, we’re already in too deep to back out.”

Arya nodded, her resolve hardening. “Then we go to the hospital.”

Rihan’s face clouded with concern. “Tonight?”

She grabbed her jacket and folded the map neatly, tucking it into her bag. “Why wait?”

Rihan sighed, grabbing his flashlight and slipping on his leather jacket. “I really hope you’re not this impulsive when you’re on your own.”

“I don’t go alone,” Arya quipped, smirking despite herself. “Lucky you.”

As they stepped out into the cold night, the dim glow of the streetlights barely illuminated the path ahead. Neither of them noticed the faint red smear someone had drawn on Rihan’s apartment door—a mark that seemed to pulse faintly in the darkness.