Chapter 2: The Ghost in the Ward
717 Words
Audrey couldn’t move. Her legs felt heavy, like lead, but her mind was racing. He’s in there. Right now.
She looked from the screen of her phone back to the heavy wooden door of the supply closet. Every instinct she had as a logical, rational medical professional told her to run to security. But the sheer adrenaline coursing through her veins pushed her forward instead. She needed to see a face. She needed to know this wasn't a ghost.
Step by step, she closed the distance. The sterile smell of the hospital seemed to fade, replaced by the loud, rhythmic thudding of her own heartbeat.
She reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from the cold, metallic door handle. She took a deep breath, gripping the brass—
Swish.
The heavy double doors at the end of the main hallway swung open with a sudden rush of air.
Audrey gasped, spinning around so fast her sneakers screeched against the floor. Her hands flew to her chest, her phone nearly slipping from her slick palms.
"Audrey? Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you," Nurse Blair said, holding a stack of freshly printed patient charts. She frowned, looking at Audrey’s pale face. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I... I..." Audrey choked out, her voice cracking. She glanced back at the supply closet, then back at Blair. "Did you see anyone come down this hall? Just now?"
Blair shook her head, adjusting the charts in her arms. "No, the lobby is completely dead. I just came from the main desk. Why?"
Audrey didn’t answer. The urge to know the truth overrode her fear. Turning back to the supply closet, she grabbed the handle, pushed down firmly, and yanked the door open.
The lights inside flickered on automatically.
Audrey held her breath, bracing herself to face whoever was hiding inside.
But the room was completely empty.
Rows of stacked gauze, IV bags, and sterile gowns stared back at her under the harsh white light. There was a second door at the back of the closet—the laundry chute and utility exit—hanging slightly ajar, swinging softly as if someone had just slipped through it a second ago.
He was gone.
Audrey barely remembered the rest of her shift. Every time a door opened, she jumped. Every time a male doctor or visitor walked past the nurse's station, she found herself staring at their hands, their height, trying to match them to the invisible figure from the supply closet.
By 6:00 AM, the morning shift arrived to relieve her. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a pale, gray light over the city.
Exhausted and thoroughly unnerved, Audrey walked into the female staff locker room to change out of her scrubs. The room was empty, smelling faintly of lavender soap and old metal.
She walked over to locker number 42. She spun her combination lock, pulled the metal door open, and froze.
Sitting right on top of her folded gray hoodie was a small, neatly wrapped box. Next to it lay a single, fresh white orchid—her favorite flower.
Her breath hitched. No one at the hospital knew white orchids were her favorite. She hadn’t even posted about them on her social media in years.
With trembling fingers, she picked up the small card attached to the box. The handwriting was elegant, precise, written in dark black ink.
“You did a wonderful job with the patient in Room 304 tonight, Audrey. You have such gentle hands. Eat this on your way home. You need to keep your strength up.”
— Yours.
Audrey swallowed hard, dropping the card as if it had burned her. She carefully opened the small box. Inside was a slice of fresh, perfectly baked meat pie from the upscale bakery down the street from her apartment—still slightly warm.
He hadn't just been in the hospital last night. He had followed her routine. He knew her tastes. And worst of all, he had access to the staff locker room, a place requiring a secure keycard to enter.
- Writer
