I finally slipped out of my hospital room, desperate for a drink of water, thinking the hallway was empty. But when a nurse suddenly appeared and grabbed my arm, her face turned pale with shock. When I looked down at what she was staring at… I realized I was never supposed to be walking at all.

I finally slipped out of my hospital room, desperate for a drink of water, thinking the hallway was empty. But when a nurse suddenly appeared and grabbed my arm, her face turned pale with shock. When I looked down at what she was staring at… I realized I was never supposed to be walking at all.

Part 1 The Night I Wasn’t Supposed to Be Awake
My name is Hannah Brooks, and the strangest night of my life happened inside St. Mary’s Medical Center in Boston. Earlier that evening I had been admitted after collapsing at work. The doctors told me it was severe dehydration combined with exhaustion. I barely remembered the ambulance ride or being wheeled into the hospital room. Everything after that faded into a fog of bright lights, voices, and machines beeping steadily beside my bed. When I woke up hours later, the hospital room was dim and silent except for the steady drip of an IV bag hanging beside me. My throat felt like sandpaper. I tried pressing the nurse call button, but nothing happened. I waited another minute, then another. No footsteps in the hallway. No voices. Just silence. My mouth was so dry it hurt to swallow. Finally I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The floor felt cold beneath my bare feet. I pulled the thin hospital gown tighter around me and slowly pushed open the door. The hallway outside was long and brightly lit by harsh fluorescent lights. It was strangely empty. No nurses’ carts. No doctors walking past. Just rows of closed doors and the faint hum of overhead lights. I stepped into the hallway and began walking slowly, holding onto the wall for balance. My head still felt light, but I just needed water. The nurse station was only a few doors away. I had almost reached the corner when a nurse suddenly appeared from another hallway. She froze the moment she saw me. Her name tag read Laura Mitchell. She looked like she was in her mid-forties, blonde hair pulled back tightly, wearing dark blue scrubs. Her reaction was immediate and disturbing. Her eyes widened in shock, and the color drained from her face. “What are you doing here?” she hissed under her breath, rushing toward me. Before I could answer, she grabbed my arm tightly. Her grip was so sudden that it made me stumble. “You shouldn’t be out of your room,” she whispered urgently. I blinked in confusion. “I just needed some water,” I said. But she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were locked on something lower, near my wrist. I followed her gaze downward. The hospital bracelet around my arm had a bright red label across it. My stomach tightened when I read the words printed on it. DO NOT WAKE.

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