A Misplaced Horror

As they approached the hospital corridor, the scent of disinfectant clung to the air, sterile yet suffocating. Samantha Carter’s heartbeat quickened. She had felt uneasy since they arrived. Something was off, though she couldn’t explain why.

Just as Nathan Carter reached for the door handle, a nurse stepped out of the room, her expression unreadable.

“You’re the one who brought the woman who was in this room earlier?” she asked abruptly.

Nathan nodded. “Yes, I am.”

She is not here, the nurse said, her voice casual yet strangely detached. “We’ve transferred her to another room. Just go straight, then turn to your right. Turn right again, and she’s there.”

“Thank you, Nurse,” Nathan responded.

But Samantha’s stomach twisted. Something about the way the nurse spoke unsettled her. Why did it feel like there was more to the story than she was saying?

Before Samantha could dwell on it, the nurse suddenly changed the subject.

“I think I’ve seen you somewhere before, in town,” she said, her gaze lingering on Nathan.

Nathan, caught off guard, chuckled lightly. “Perhaps. I spent a lot of time around the city, not until I got a new job that changed my visibility.”

But Samantha wasn’t listening. She had no patience for small talk—not now, not here.

Her hands clenched as she strode ahead, ignoring the unease clawing at her gut. She followed the nurse’s directives—straight, right, then right again. The corridor seemed too quiet, as if the air itself was holding its breath.

When she reached the destination, she hesitated before pushing open the door.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn tightly shut. The only thing visible in the center of the bed was a figure covered head to toe in black cloth.

A chilling wave of dread washed over her.

Her heart hammered. Her breath caught in her throat.

Was this… her mother?

The silence in the room pressed against her ears, deafening and cruel.

Frozen in place, she felt her legs trembling beneath her. She wanted to move, she felt like screaming—but the terror had locked her in place.

She inhaled sharply, willing herself to act.

With a shaking hand, she reached toward the cloth, preparing to uncover the truth.

And then—she screamed.

A piercing cry tore through the quiet, ripping through the hospital halls like shattered glass.

The conversation between Nathan and the nurse came to an abrupt halt as they heard the gut-wrenching sound.

 

Nathan Carter and the nurse rushed down the corridor, their footsteps echoing against the sterile hospital walls. The sound of Samantha’s scream had sliced through the silence, raw and uncontainable.

Panic drove Nathan forward. He knew that kind of cry—it was the sound of breaking.

They reached the door, breathless, expecting to find Samantha in the right room. But instead, the scream had come from the next door over.

The nurse’s face tightened. “She went into the wrong room,” she murmured.

Nathan didn’t hesitate. He stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto his daughter.

She stood frozen beside the hospital bed, her body trembling, her breath erratic as she stared at the black-shrouded figure.

Nathan’s voice was firm but laced with worry. “Samantha… what are you doing here?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

She had collapsed onto the floor moments ago, her strength stolen by the crushing belief that she had lost everything.

But now…

Now, she heard his words.

Nathan took cautious steps forward, his tone gentler this time. “This is not your mother.”

Samantha’s breath hitched.

The nurse chimed in softly, stepping beside Nathan. “Dear, you entered the wrong room.”

For a second, Samantha’s body remained rigid, her mind struggling to process what she had just heard.

Wrong room?

Her mother wasn’t dead?

Her lungs filled with air that had been missing. The weight pressing on her chest suddenly lifted.

The sorrow and bitterness that had suffocated her drained away in an instant.

Nathan moved closer, his strong hands reaching out to support her. She let him.

Slowly, shakily, she rose to her feet.

But her gaze lingered one final time on the lifeless figure, covered in black cloth, death still present in the air.

It hadn’t been her mother.

But it had been someone’s.

And as relief filled her heart, a quiet thought crept into her mind—whoever lay beneath that cloth, someone else’s nightmare had just begun.

Samantha felt a firm grip on both her arms as they gently guided her toward the right room—the one where her mother was lying. Her legs felt unsteady, her body drained of strength from the overwhelming shock she had just experienced.

Her mother had already been stirred awake by the commotion of her earlier screams. The air was thick with tension, and as they moved, a few nurses approached them, their faces filled with concern.

"What happened?" one of them asked, sensing the distress in Samantha’s pale, shaken expression.

A nurse explained, "She entered the wrong room… and saw the body there. She thought it was her mother."

The words hung heavily in the air. Samantha barely heard them—her mind was still spinning, her body cold from fear.

As they stepped into the correct room, her knees nearly buckled. The shock had drained her, but as she saw the familiar figure before her, a warmth began to creep back into her chest.

Lillian Carter lay on the hospital bed, her face slightly worn but alive, her eyes locking onto her daughter’s fragile form as she approached.

Samantha’s breath hitched as she moved forward, the weight of her emotions pressing against her. Weakly, she called out, "Mum..." Her voice was faint, barely above a whisper.

She reached her mother’s bedside, lowering herself carefully and resting her head against her chest. The steady rise and fall of her mother’s breathing was all the reassurance she needed.

Though her strength had been shaken, though the fear had nearly consumed her, her mother was here. And that was enough.

After a few minutes of chatting with her mother, Samantha’s father spoke up, his voice gentle but firm.

"Samantha, don’t you think you should get back to school?"

The words snapped her out of the moment. She blinked, realization dawning on her—she had completely forgotten why she had come to the clinic in the first place. Time had slipped away, lost in the worry and relief of seeing her mother.

Without hesitation, she stood up, adjusting her bag. Her father reached into his pocket and handed her some cash.

"Take this," he said. "For transport and anything else you might need."

Samantha nodded, grateful but still deep in thought. She turned toward the exit, moving briskly through the hospital halls.

As she reached the reception area, she stopped abruptly. There, seated with his head bowed, was Jake. His posture was slack. He had been waiting for her all this time, and now he had drifted off into a slumber, his breathing slow and steady.

She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, placing her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Jake, wake up."

At the sound of her voice and the light shake, Jake stirred, blinking himself back into reality. His eyes met hers, exhaustion written all over his face, adjusting to the sudden movement around him.

Samantha gave him an apologetic look. "Please, I’m sorry for keeping you waiting."

Jake stretched slightly, shaking off the sleepiness. "It’s okay, it’s fine," he assured her, his voice still heavy with fatigue.

Then, as if remembering the real reason they had come, he asked, "How is your mother?"

Samantha let out a small breath. "She’s fine," she said, though the emotions of the day still lingered in her voice.

Jake nodded, relieved. But Samantha glanced at the time and realized how long they had spent there.

"Please, let’s go back to school. We’ve been here too long already."

Without another word, they walked toward the exit, stepping back into the real world.

On their way back to campus, they walked side by side, Samantha deep in thought while Jake stole glances at her.

He hadn’t paid much attention before, but now, as she talked about her concerns—her voice soft, passionate, yet determined—he found himself drawn to her in a way he hadn’t expected.

His eyes wandered over her features: the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the way her brow furrowed slightly when she was trying to solve a problem.

He suddenly felt an unfamiliar pull toward her. It wasn’t just admiration. It was something deeper—something that made him want to understand her beyond the surface.

Jake had always been smooth around girls, always keeping things casual. But with Samantha, it was different.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

By the time they reached campus again, Samantha turned to him, her expression thoughtful. “Thanks for waiting for me, Jake. I know you probably had other things to do, especially your classes.”

Jake shoved his hands into his pockets, offering her a small smile. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind.”

that answer came because now, she was occupying space in his mind that he hadn’t planned for.

And whether he liked it or not, something was changing.

Jake found himself staring at Samantha for a moment longer than he intended. Her presence had an effortless charm—something about the way she carried herself, the quiet confidence mixed with kindness. "This girl is too beautiful," he thought, feeling a pull toward her that he couldn’t quite explain.

But then, doubt crept in.

This could be his chance to shoot his shot, to see if there was even a possibility—but was it worth the risk?

He swallowed, realizing that one thing stood in his way: Who he is on campus.

If he tells Samantha who he is, would she still want to be his friend? Would she even look at him the same way, let alone consider something more? The uncertainty gripped him, making his confidence falter.

He had seen the way people whispered when he walked by, the assumptions, the reputation that followed him. He wasn’t sure Samantha knew everything yet—but if she did…

Would she stay? Or would she walk away without a second thought?

Jake exhaled slowly, shaking the thought off.