The patients around posed little threat to Gao Ming now, but to him six months ago, the seventh floor corridor was truly a hell.
A counselor who insisted on saving people was torn to shreds by countless psychologically distorted patients. In a way, it was a very ironic end.
The Gao Ming reflected on the floor tiles began to sprint wildly, closely chasing his own shadow.
The voice of the public announcement for missing persons in the broadcast became increasingly piercing. Gradually, the shadows of all the patients began to reflect on the tiles.
The smooth and clean floor tiles were like the surface of water, where past and present reflected and seeped into each other.
Screams came, and a disheveled nurse burst out of a sickroom. Her clothes were in disarray and she held a huge syringe in her hand.
Pushing past other patients blocking the way, the nurse's arms bend as she aimed the needle at Gao Ming's eyes.
