Ned lay in the sterile room, the sharp smell of antiseptic stinging his nose. The hospital bed creaked under his frail body, barely able to support the weight of years. The sheets were too stiff. His hands trembled, fingers bone-thin, unable to hold a glass of water. His mouth was dry, but the nurse hadn't been in for hours. His eyes stared at the dull ceiling, barely seeing.
It had been years since anyone came to visit him. His wife had died twenty years ago. His children had long forgotten him, too busy with their own lives. No one cared. No one had ever cared.
He stared at the small window in the corner of the room, but it was always dark outside. Maybe it was the hospital lights, or maybe the night just never ended here. He could never tell.
A sound broke through the quiet, soft at first, like a whisper. He couldn't place it. Was it the air conditioner? A nurse walking by? No. It came from the far corner of the room. A figure, standing just outside his vision.
It wasn't a person, not quite. More like a shape. His eyes narrowed, but it didn't help. The shape was still there, just at the edge. A patch of darkness that shouldn't exist.
Ned blinked. His eyes burned. The figure was gone, but the air felt heavier now, thicker. He tried to sit up, but his body betrayed him, his muscles too weak. He cursed under his breath and tried again, desperate for something to make him feel alive, even if it was just for a second.
The door to his room creaked open. He barely heard it. A nurse walked in, but the figure was still there, still at the edge of his vision, standing just outside the light.
"Mr. Ned?" The nurse's voice was a dull hum in his ear, as though he were underwater. She stepped closer, her face a blur. He blinked again. Was she real?
"I... I saw something," he croaked, his voice raw. His throat burned from disuse.
The nurse smiled, but it was hollow. "You're tired, Mr. Ned. You need your rest." She turned to leave, but stopped by the door. Her hand hovered over the handle for a second longer than it should have. Then, she turned back, looking at him with wide eyes.
"Who's in the corner?" she asked.
Ned's heart skipped a beat. "There's no one there," he rasped. "There's nothing."
The nurse didn't speak again. She just stared at him, and in that moment, Ned felt a strange, cold emptiness seep into his chest. She walked out without another word. The door shut behind her with a soft click.
The room fell quiet again.
But the figure wasn't gone. It had moved closer. He could feel it now, watching him. He turned his head, but nothing was there. Still, he felt its presence.
Suddenly, the figure stepped into the light. It wasn't human. It was a void, a blackness that pressed in on him, suffocating.
"Who... who are you?" Ned whispered, his voice shaking, his breath quickening. His heart was racing, but his body couldn't respond.
It didn't speak. It only moved closer. He tried to scream, but no sound came. His chest felt tight. His vision was fading. And then, just as it reached out to him, the door opened again.
The nurse returned, her hands trembling. She looked at the spot where the figure stood. There was nothing now, nothing but the empty corner. She looked at Ned.
"Mr. Ned?" she asked, her voice soft and distant.
Ned didn't answer.
His breath was slow, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. And then, there was nothing. Nothing at all. The room was silent.
But when the nurse checked his pulse, she found no heartbeat.
A figure stood behind her, watching. The man was gone.