Chapter 36
Nina’s POV
The last toilet in the left wing finally gleamed under the harsh fluorescent light. I straightened, pressing the back of my wrist to my forehead. Sweat stung my eyes and trickled down my spine in slow, itchy rivers.
My uniform—already oversized—clung to my skin like damp paper. The smell of bleach had soaked into my hair, my pores, my lungs. Every breath tasted chemical. My ankle throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, but I ignored it. Pain was just noise now.
I gathered the mop, bucket, and gloves, carried them back to the supply room, and locked the door behind me.
The corridor was quiet except for the distant hum of the museum’s air-conditioning system. I peeled off the uniform shirt first—wet fabric slapping against the concrete floor—then the pants. Sta
