I used to think dying was the worst thing a person could do to another person. I truly believed that was the edge of cruelty.
But I've learned something ugly since then.
There is no edge.
People can be colder than any nightmare you can name. They will keep pushing and pushing, like there's some sick pride in seeing how far pain can go.
What I saw in that ward wasn't even the full darkness. It was only a crack in the door.
And Vicky's end… it was enough to turn a strong stomach with just one glance.
The worst part was that her head was the least damaged.
When I stepped inside, it was there—right at my feet.
Her eyes were wide open, fixed on me like she still had something to say, and my skin went tight all over. The back of my neck prickled. My instincts screamed at me to run.
"Ugh…"
My body listened before my pride could. I stumbled back into the corridor and dropped into a crouch, gagging hard. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw hers again.
