No One Can Escape!

In the muted glow of dawn, I found myself stirring from uneasy dreams, the afterimage of Zoya's visage haunting the computer screen before me. Her fierce expression, caught in the static of the night, sent a tremor of fear through me. It was an unsettling reminder of the enigma that Zoya had become in our lives.

The air in the room grew heavy, charged with an electric anticipation, as Shawn reached for the phone. The moment he answered, a palpable chill swept through me, so intense that Shawn nearly dropped the phone in shock.

It was Zoya on the line. Her laughter pierced the silence, a sound so sharp and sinister it seemed to claw at my very soul. "I will never forget Zoya's eerie laughter," I whispered to myself, a mantra against the darkness. It was a laughter filled with malice, with a bitterness that spoke of deep-seated vengeance. Each note was a sharp nail etching its mark upon my consciousness.

Shawn, ever the guardian against the storm, fought to master his rising panic. With a voice steadier than his trembling hands, he dared to confront the specter on the line. "Zoya, what is it that you want?" he asked, a false calm belying the storm within.

The laughter ceased, replaced by a voice teetering on the edge of madness. "All your efforts are in vain!" Zoya's declaration was a howl of despair and determination, a vow from beyond the grave. "I have sworn upon my death to haunt those who wronged me. None shall find peace, none shall escape their reckoning... Hahahaha..."

Her laughter, a sharp cascade of malice, reverberated through the room as Shawn, in a desperate bid for silence, covered his ears and ended the call. He glanced at me, a silent question in his gaze, before showing me the phone. The name 'Susan' flashed ominously on the screen, a harbinger of dread.

Panic took root. "Could Susan be in danger? And Mary... she's with Susan!" The thought was a catalyst, propelling Shawn and me into action. We fled the confines of the police station, our hearts racing as we made for the hospital, driven by a fear we dared not voice.

The hospital, once a bastion of healing, now seemed an alien landscape. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, a stark contrast to the tranquility we left behind. With Susan's safety weighing heavily on my mind, I followed Shawn's determined stride, our footsteps echoing our urgency.

Bursting into Susan's ward, the scene before us was disarmingly serene. Susan and Mary, ensconced in a bubble of camaraderie, shared a moment of laughter and light. Their ease was a stark contrast to our own turmoil, a poignant reminder of the storm we had braved to find them safe.

The relief was palpable, yet it birthed an awkwardness that hung heavily between Shawn and me. He cleared his throat, struggling to find the words, before finally murmuring, "Well, as long as you're okay, that's all that matters..." His voice trailed off, a testament to the turmoil that had brought us here.

We retreated, leaving the warmth of their room for the solitude of the corridor, a silent agreement between us to seek solace in the quiet. Yet, as we sat, lost in our thoughts, the sight of two nurses passing by stirred a new curiosity, a whisper of intrigue that promised yet another twist in our unwinding tale.

Under the muted glow of the hospital's fluorescent lights, a hushed conversation between two nurses caught my ear. Their words, laced with concern and secrecy, spun a thread of intrigue that I found myself unable to resist.

"I'm merely pointing out that our hospital is supposed to be a place of healing, not of hiding thing like that. Things are better now, but if anything unusual happens again, it would be indefensible," one nurse remarked, her voice a mixture of frustration and fear.

Her companion cast a wary glance in my direction, then quickly drew her closer, her voice a low whisper of caution. "The dean has expressly forbidden us from speaking of this outside these walls. Please, let's keep our voices down," she implored, a note of urgency in her tone.

As they moved past, my curiosity flared like a beacon in the night. Shawn, lost in thought and a haze of smoke, paid them no heed. Yet, I found myself stepping forward, propelled by a need to unravel the mystery.

Approaching them with a warmth I hoped was disarming, I inquired with a smile, "Excuse me, what's this secret you're discussing so intently? Is there something exciting happening?"

The more relaxed nurse offered a half-hearted attempt at obfuscation, her hands gesturing dismissively as she leaned in, her voice tinged with faux mystique. "Excitement? Far from it. We're merely discussing the mundane, nothing wicked..."

Her words were swiftly cut off by her colleague, who interjected with a nervous chuckle, "Oh, it's nothing at all, just idle chatter. Pay her no mind; she has a penchant of acting all mysterious..."

Disappointed yet undeterred, I retreated, my curiosity unsatisfied but far from quenched. Something significant was unfolding within these walls, of that I was certain. The air itself seemed to whisper of secrets and shadows.

Resolved not to let the mystery lie, I watched as the nurses disappeared around a corner. With a glance back at Shawn, still enveloped in his solitary contemplation, I made my decision. Stealthily, I followed their path, finding them entering the dressing room, likely concluding their shifts.

Pressing my ear against the door, I finally caught the tail end of their conversation, a revelation that sent shivers down my spine.

"How could you speak so carelessly? If the dean hears of this, you'll be out on your ear!" the first nurse scolded.

"Oh, please. Our dean's just scared of stirring the pot. But honestly, this should've been taken to the authorities long ago. Did you not see those babies? Especially the newest arrivals... Their expressions were haunting, as if shadows had taken root in their very souls," the second nurse confided, her voice a mix of fear and indignation.

The mention of the babies, marked by darkness as if bearing the weight of unseen troubles, ignited a storm of emotions within me. What had transpired here? What secrets did these walls hold? My heart ached for the innocent, and I knew, in that moment, that I could not—would not—let this mystery rest.

Leaning closer, the world around me seemed to mute, save for the buzzing that erupted in my ears, an unforeseen cacophony that drowned out the secrets I sought. It was a maddening tinnitus, erasing the voices beyond the door with its intrusive whir.

Frustration mingled with determination, I pressed my ear once more against the cold wood, yearning for the whispers of truth. Then, amidst the silence left by the fading tinnitus, a chilling sound emerged—a whimper, desperate and faint, as if calling from the depths of despair itself. It was quickly followed by a laughter, not just any laughter, but one teetering on the edge of madness. My blood ran cold; it was unmistakably Zoya.

Panic knotted in my chest at the thought. Had Zoya, like a phantom, slipped past unseen during my moment of disorientation? Were the nurses now in peril because of her? The urge to call for Shawn flashed through my mind, but an inner voice spurred me on, whispering promises of Lance's arrival should danger truly loom. Thus, armed with naught but courage, I flung the door open.

But there was no sign of Zoya.

Instead, the reality that greeted me was far from what I'd anticipated. Two nurses, mid-change, were suddenly exposed by my abrupt entrance. Their screams of shock pierced the air, a cacophony of dismay at my intrusion.

It was then that Shawn arrived, his timing impeccable yet unfortunate. I tried to convey the urgency and the terror of what I had heard, insisting, "Shawn, I swear I heard Zoya's whispering..."

His skepticism hung heavy between us, a silent chasm that grew as he apologized to the nurses on my behalf. His expression spoke volumes of his disbelief, suggesting a reprimand awaited me once privacy permitted.

"You think Zoya's here, in the hospital?" His query was edged with doubt.

I was about to affirm, to weave together the strands of overheard conversation and the terror of Zoya's laughter, when a sudden scream tore through the tension. Susan and Mary's cries of fear from their room propelled us into action, leaving explanations and doubts hanging unattended in the air.

Bursting into their sanctuary, we found them entwined in an embrace of terror, a broken phone at their feet, Zoya's voice still spilling from its shattered receiver. "I will not let you go... none of you can escape..."

Her words were like thorns, weaving through the air, embedding themselves into our very beings, constricting tighter with every syllable. It was a tangible darkness, wrapping its vines around our hearts, squeezing with relentless malice until breath became a luxury we could not afford.