Semua Bab Whispers Behind the Glass: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The moment the new patient stepped into the common room, something in Mila recoiled.She didn’t see him at first. She felt him; the weight of an unfamiliar presence, the thick silence that followed his entrance like a shadow. Conversations faltered. Chairs creaked as patients shifted. Even the old grandfather clock in the corner seemed to tick more slowly.Then she turned.A tall man with close-cropped dark hair and pale eyes stood just inside the threshold. His hands were cuffed in front of him, more a formality than necessity; his stillness spoke of control, not submission. Two guards flanked him but seemed unsure whether they were protecting him or everyone else from him.Jonas Hale, the intake notes had said. No other details.Mila's eyes locked onto his, and something inside her twisted. Recognition without memory. Fear without reason. Her pulse rocketed. The charcoal she was holding snapped in her fingers.She rose abruptly, the stool clattering behind her.“Mila?” one of the nu

Adrien waited until the clinic was still. Rain ticked against the windows like impatient fingers. Somewhere down the corridor, an emergency generator hummed, the storm had knocked out the main power again. It was the perfect cover.He moved silently through the administrative wing, bypassing the security office and the locked record rooms. He had memorized the keycode from the director’s office two nights ago , 0923 ... Cassia’s birthday. He didn’t know why it was stuck in his head, but it unnerved him.Inside the archives, the air was heavy with dust and mildew. Most files were digitized now, but Halden was old-fashioned, too many secrets had passed through these walls to risk a cloud breach.He found Mila’s file where it had always been thin, curated, and suspiciously clean.Too clean.Adrien pulled out a flashlight and flipped through the pages. Name: Mila D. Everhart. Admission date: five months ago. Diagnosis: dissociative amnesia, PTSD, night terrors. The rest was a mosaic of h

The Glass Room was silent.The scattered remnants of the overturned chair, the bloodied edge of the upright piano, and the faint smear on the mirrored glass, it all looked like a crime scene from a nightmare. And in many ways, it was.Jonas Hale was unconscious. Paramedics had stabilized him and transported him to the clinic’s infirmary, but he hadn’t woken since the incident. A massive head wound. No witnesses. No security footage.Adrien Kael stood in the center of the room, still reeling. His hands trembled despite himself. This was not just another outburst. This was calculated. Cold. Someone had hurt Jonas Hale, the patient who’d whispered to Mila weeks ago, “I remember you.”And now he couldn't say another word.Red glass.That’s what Mila had murmured, dazed and shaking, when they found her kneeling beside Jonas’s unconscious body. The security feed had gone dark minutes before the incident. The cameras were erased not glitched, not malfunctioning. Erased.Adrien stared at the

The door was made of thick steel. No label. No handle. Just a black keypad flashing a quiet red warning: Access Restricted.They shouldn’t have been here.But Adrien had memorized the access code from a maintenance log weeks ago before he ever thought he'd use it for anything more than curiosity.Beep. Beep. Click.The lock disengaged with a heavy sound that echoed through the corridor like a gunshot. Mila stood behind him, her body tense, her eyes alert. Every step deeper into the old south wing of Halden felt like peeling back the skin of a wound long left to fester.They entered.Inside, the air changed. Thicker. Colder. The hallway smelled of bleach and metal, and something far older, a kind of rot that no cleaning agent could erase.“Why is this place sealed off?” Mila whispered.Adrien glanced at the old signage. The wing had once been used for high-risk isolation but had been declared inactive years ago. “It’s not on any official map of the clinic,” he said. “But someone’s sti

The world inside Halden had gone quiet, too quiet. Adrien’s office had been locked for two days. His name had been scraped off the door. No explanation. No note. No goodbye. Mila sat on the edge of her cot, knees drawn to her chest, watching the snow blur the window like frostbitten static. The sky outside was white and endless. So was her mind. She hadn't seen Adrien. Hadn’t heard from him. Even the sympathetic nurse, Ellie, was gone, replaced by stone-faced staff who offered no answers, only medication she no longer swallowed. The corridors felt different without him.. colder, lonelier. Dangerous. Each step she took was met with suspicion. Whispers. Glances. She’d asked about Adrien once, and a male nurse replied curtly, “Transferred. That's all you need to know.” Transferred. Like he was a box to be shipped away. Like he hadn’t changed everything. The note he left still burned in her pocket. “Trust the symbols.” She didn’t know what it meant, not really. But she clung to