"When did this get there?" The middle-aged man held the medical history, and his eyes were bulging—he had no memory of this at all.
"I…" The boy was deathly afraid of his father, so he cowered behind his mother.
"Why aren't you speaking now? It's time for you to speak, but you choose to be silent‽" The middle-aged man yanked the boy out from behind his mother. He grabbed the boy's shirt and shook him. "When was this stuck there? Where were we at the time? What did the person who left this look like?"
"On the first floor, when we passed one of the sickrooms, the door was left half ajar. I saw a hand reach out and place the paper on your back." It was unclear whether the boy was more afraid of his father or more afraid of that hand. "I wanted to tell you at the time, but then a face showed up behind the door. His skin was ashen, and he whispered to me to not reveal the secret because this was supposed to be a fair game of hide-and-seek."
