Chapter 3: The Silent Pulse

The hospital room was eerily still, the sound of the monitors beeping in rhythm, but to Adrian, everything seemed muted. The word "Help" echoed in his mind, the faint whisper from the girl cutting through the hum of normality. He sat there for a moment longer, her cold hand still resting in his, though lifeless now. Had it really happened? Or had his mind conjured it in the depths of his growing obsession?

But that word, that single word—Help—was like a puzzle piece that didn't belong. He wanted to believe it was a figment of his overworked brain, some trick of fatigue, but the grip he had felt was too real. The girl had reached out from whatever abyss she was in. And that meant there was something more to her story.

Adrian loosened his grip and stood up, casting one last glance at her before leaving the room. The fluorescent lights of the hospital hallways buzzed overhead as he made his way down the corridor. He needed answers, but they wouldn't be found here. The medical records were extensive, but sterile; they only told part of the story.

He headed toward his office, pulling out his phone to scroll through his notes on the girl's case. Her name was unknown, no family had come forward, and there were no records of where she came from—just that she had been found, unconscious and gravely injured, on the edge of the city. A vague report from the police noted that she had been discovered in an alley, her clothes tattered and her body showing signs of severe trauma, but no witnesses. No one had seen a thing.

He entered his office, sinking into the chair as he pulled up her medical file on his computer. Her injuries were numerous, and by all accounts, she should have succumbed to them. But she hadn't. Despite the trauma, she clung to life with an intensity that defied logic. He had seen patients in critical condition before, but this—there was something off. Something deeper.

He rubbed his temples, trying to shake the creeping sense of dread that had wrapped itself around him since their last encounter. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

It was Dr. Evelyn Sharpe, a colleague he had known for years. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, her eyes tired yet sharp. Evelyn had always been more grounded than Adrian, less likely to be swept up in emotional entanglements with patients. Maybe that was why he had called her in—he needed a voice of reason.

"Hey," she greeted as she stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. "You look like you've been up all night."

"I might as well have been," Adrian replied, leaning back in his chair. "It's the girl. There's something about her, Evelyn. I can't shake it."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, walking over to his desk and crossing her arms. "She's in a coma. What more is there to shake?"

He hesitated, wondering how much to tell her. Evelyn was pragmatic, but even she might find what he was about to say strange.

"She spoke to me."

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean she spoke to you? I thought she hasn't regained consciousness."

"She hasn't," Adrian said, his voice quiet but firm. "At least, not in the way we understand it. But when I touched her hand… she whispered to me. She said 'help.' I know it sounds insane, but it happened."

Evelyn stared at him for a long moment, her face a mask of neutrality. Then she sighed, shaking her head. "Adrian, you're exhausted. You've been through a lot lately, especially with the surgery. Maybe you're reading too much into this. Patients in comas sometimes twitch or move involuntarily. It's possible your mind is playing tricks on you."

"I know what I heard," Adrian insisted, standing up abruptly. He paced the small space of his office, the tension building in his chest. "I've worked here long enough to know the difference between exhaustion and… this."

Evelyn's expression softened slightly, but she remained skeptical. "You need to take a step back. You're too close to this."

"I can't," Adrian replied, stopping to face her. "There's something else going on here, something we don't understand. And I need to find out what it is."

Evelyn sighed again but didn't argue further. "Okay, let's say you're right. What are you planning to do?"

Adrian paused. That was the question, wasn't it? He didn't know where to start. All he had was a word—a cry for help—and the nagging feeling that the girl was in danger, even as she lay motionless in her hospital bed.

"I'm going to find out who she is," he said finally. "And why she was in that alley in the first place. There's something about her, Evelyn, something we're missing."

Evelyn didn't respond immediately, her brow furrowed in thought. "You know the police are already looking into it. What makes you think you'll find something they won't?"

Adrian sat back down, the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. "Because I'm the one she reached out to."

Evelyn gave him a long look, her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, she nodded, though he could see the doubt still lingering in her eyes. "Alright. But if you're going to pursue this, do it carefully. Don't let this… obsession consume you. I've seen what happens to doctors who get too close."

"I won't," Adrian promised, though he wasn't sure if he believed it himself.

Evelyn left a few minutes later, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Adrian turned back to the computer screen, scanning the girl's medical file for anything he might have missed. But the details were the same—no family, no records, no clues.

Except for one.

Adrian's eyes narrowed as he spotted a line in the police report. It was a small detail, easy to overlook, but it stood out to him now. The officers who had found the girl had noted an unusual symbol carved into the wall near where she was discovered. It hadn't been given much attention at the time, written off as graffiti, but something about it tugged at his memory.

He pulled up the photo of the symbol. It was crude, hastily drawn, but distinct. A circle with jagged lines radiating outward, like a sun or a star. Adrian stared at it, the image sparking something deep in his mind—a flicker of recognition.

He had seen this symbol before.

But where?

Adrian leaned back in his chair, his heart racing as the pieces of the puzzle began to shift. The girl, the alley, the symbol—they were all connected somehow. And he was determined to find out how.

Without another moment's hesitation, he grabbed his coat and headed for the door. He was going to the alley where she had been found. He needed to see it for himself, needed to understand the connection between the girl's plea for help and the symbol etched in stone.

As he stepped out into the cold air, the city around him felt different—darker, more oppressive. The whispers of the night before lingered at the edges of his consciousness, and Adrian knew that whatever he was about to uncover, it would change everything.

He just wasn't sure if he was ready for it.