"Rose! Where's the patient from room 203?" the nurse demanded, her voice edged with urgency.
"I gave her the dose earlier. She was asleep when I left. What happened?" Rose responded, her worry evident.
"I can't find her. She's not in her room. Did you lock the door before you left? I told you to watch her closely."
"I'm certain I locked the door. There's no way she could have left the room."
"There's no time to figure out how. Find her before anything happens again. Also, call security to search for her. I'll check the CCTV."
They both sprinted off in different directions, frantically searching for her.
She was walking on the rooftop, her steps slow and deliberate, until she reached the edge. She stood there, lost in memories she longed to return to but knew she never could. Her eyes were empty, mirroring the emptiness in her hands. There was nothing left for her in this world. She wanted to die, to end the relentless pain she endured. She gazed down at the people below, living their lives, seemingly happy. Happy? Had she ever been happy? In all her years, had she ever truly lived?
"Will this pain end when I die?" she whispered to herself, the question barely audible.
"I can help," a voice came from behind her. Her eyes followed the voice and saw a man standing there.
He was smoking, one hand casually tucked into his pocket, his black hair falling slightly over his eyes.
"If it's hard to jump, I can help," he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night air.
"Help?" Her tone was faint and questioning.
"A push from behind is enough help, isn't it?"
She locked eyes with him for a few seconds. There was something strange about those eyes; they carried no emotion. She had never seen eyes like his before.
She turned back to look ahead, now more determined to die.
The man noticed whispering behind him. Some nurses were anxiously discussing how to bring her down. Their repetitive murmurs irritated him.
"What a bother," he muttered, annoyed.
The girl was about to jump, but he grabbed her hand and yanked her back roughly. She fell to the side.
Two nurses seized her arms and began to escort her away.
She started to shout and beg the man to help her, to end her life.
"You said you'd help me! Why won't you do that? Kill me! Let me die!" She pushed one of the nurses aside and ran to grab the man's collar.
"Please!" she cried out, her voice filled with desperation.
The man looked at her, recognizing the deep hurt inflicted by the world. Yet, he felt no pity, no sadness. He pried her hand off his collar and flung it aside.
"Before that...kill those who did this to you," he whispered, a sinister smile spreading across his face.
The girl's eyes widened, and she froze, unable to move or even blink.
The nurses took her away as darkness enveloped the scene. The man watched her until she vanished into the shadows.
Five Years Later
Ethan lived alone in a comfortable home, surrounded by the quiet solitude. He was wealthy, but not excessively . His inheritance provided him with enough to live comfortably.he was a very famouse painter yet no knew him accept his artist name "Emilio".
Ethan's home was a reflection of his character cold,dark and quite.he was cold and distant, there was a depth to Ethan that no one knew. His days were spent working on his paintings, reading and the hobby he enjoyed.....killing.
His basement was his sanctuary for this dark pastime. He descended into the spacious, dimly lit room. The only source of illumination was a single, swinging light bulb, casting eerie shadows. Tools of his trade hung meticulously on the wall.
A man lay on the cold floor, his hands and legs tightly bound. He was muttering incoherently, his speech muffled by the tape over his mouth.
"Did you miss me?" Ethan asked, selecting a tool from the wall with a detached calmness.
He tore the tape from the man's mouth.
The man, appearing to be in his mid-40s, gasped for air, his breath ragged. "Let me go...please. I don't even know who you are," he pleaded, desperation and fear evident in his bloodshot eyes.
"It doesn't matter. You're never going to know me. After all, you're about to..." Ethan leaned in close, his voice a chilling whisper, "die." He smiled, a smile that could only be described as demonic. No one had ever witnessed that smile and lived to tell the tale.