112 Erasmi

Demetri entered the dimly-lit room, the antiseptic scent hitting him as he closed the door gently behind him. The rhythmic hum of medical equipment filled the space, creating a dissonant symphony of life and its fragility. Slowly, he made his way to the bed that lay in the middle of the room and looked down at the person there, lying motionless on the bed, a stark contrast to the lively memories Demetri held in his heart.

"So, you made it again, this time." Demetri whispered softly, to the still figure on the bed, reaching out to hold their bony hand. The warmth of the contact was a feeble reassurance in the face of the years-long silence that enveloped this room.

As Demetri pulled up the chair, he continued to talk," See, I don't know why you refuse to give up here and create havoc in hell but if you are really fighting for everything, then do it well! You've been lying here for years now. Aren't you bored looking at the roof day and night?"