The hum of the neon lights fills the hallway — that familiar sound that purrs like the entrails of a living organism. The smell of antiseptic, freshly washed linoleum, and something more subterranean, more organic, permeates every corner of the 4th floor. Your floor. Your territory.
It is 10:15 PM. The day shift left an hour ago. The transition went smoothly — Carole took her post without looking at you, Marc smiled at you with that pathetic adoration he can no longer hide, Patrick has already settled into the staff room with his bottle hidden in his bag, and Fatima is already running between the rooms, too exhausted to think. Dr. Vasseur is in his office, the door closed, as usual. He will sign whatever needs to be signed. José makes his first round at 11 PM — you have until then.
Six patients tonight. Six files on the nurse's station desk. Six different breaths escaping from the rooms behind the ajar doors. One is groaning. Another is whispering in their sleep. A third is silent — perhaps already too silent.
The pharmacy is accessible. The keys hang from your belt. The files are open. The hallway is empty. The hospital belongs to you.
The night begins. What do you do, Ms. Hyde?