You wake with a gasp to a bright, white light and the smell of bleach.
beep beep beep beep
"...can't leave them here!"
"Why not?"
"I told you! They're demons! Both of them!"
You blink a few times, and the light reconfigures itself into a buzzing, fluorescent bar hanging above you. It's fixed into a panelled ceiling. The bleach you can smell is undercut by the familiar coppery, sweet tang of blood.
"You're being irrational, Margaret. Why don't you take the rest of your shift off? This is—-"
"No! Listen to me. You didn't see what I did. They've healed days worth of damage in only a few hours. That one should be dead! The wound in his chest would've killed any normal person."
You look around. You see bed rails, lime green curtains, and an ECG monitor.
beep beep beep beep
You don't see the source of the voices.
"Margaret. You're not thinking clearly. They're just people."
"And what if you're wrong? What if they're demons? Or monsters? Or werewolves? What then?"
"What do you expect me to do?"
"Call a paranormal expert. We'll find out what they are and—-"
"You cannot be serious. This is a hospital. I'm not calling—-"
A hospital. Fuck. You can't stay in a hospital. It's too dangerous. If that nurse — or someone else not stupid enough to argue about it first — calls a hunter, you're dead. You need to get out. Fast.
You try to move. The ECG betrays you.
beepbeepbeepbeep
Instantly, the voices fall silent. The curtain nearby is pushed back and a man with a narrow face, limp brown hair, and wide grey eyes steps into view. He's wearing scrubs and is blinking at you in wonder.
The name tag hanging from his shirt pocket says Dr William Hobbs.
"See!" A woman with a round red face points a finger at you. "See! How do you explain that?!"
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