Veil Bed Hospital Novels & Stories

When I looked up, she was staring at me. “You eat tube food,” she said, grinning. “Come on. Dive in.” ••••••••• Days blurred into each other until the scent of antiseptic faded and was replaced by Zoey’s vanilla candles—or at least what I thought was vanilla. I wasn’t in the hospital anymore. I knew that the moment the silence started to feel safe. I looked around, trying to make sense of the dim light creeping through the blinds. The faint glow painted the room in soft gold, catching on the pale curtains.

~Ruby's POV~ The antiseptic smell of the hospital was starting to cling to my skin. That mix of alcohol, bleach, and something sterile that never lets you forget where you are. The steady beeping of the monitors was the only sound in the room, steady like a ticking clock, each one a reminder that this was real. Helen lay in the bed, her face pale, her leg elevated and wrapped in white bandages, bruises painting her skin in shades of angry violet and fading yellow. She looked so small under the thin sheet.

She pretended to sleep though her senses were very much alive the entire time. Arnaldo went back to the room moments later, finding Care on bed with her back facing him. He worried upon noticing her face tomato red and responses too brief. Hence, instead of discharging her from the hospital, he decided to let them stay for the night. He and Ena slept in the adjoined room, a part of the VVIP room features. It was actually more like a hotel suite than a hospital room because it has its own living area, spacious bathroom with built-in bathtub and resting room for the patient's guardians.

He is near to fainting. He is now near his son's hospital bed. The VIP bed has world-class and state-of-the-art facilities. New medical equipment, a comfortable bed almost the size of a hotel mattress, an air purifier, a television set, a sala set, kitchen, refrigerator, and a washroom you can sleep on. The room is fully airconditioned. The walls are all painted white, Tanashiri's favorite color.

I remained on the floor, nurturing the pain from my dislocated arm. I struggled on my feet, letting out a painful groan as shock cruised through my muscles from the dislocation. “Hello." I held the dislocated arm and forced a smile at girl sitting on the edge of the bed. She glared at me, her expression unreadable. She had her jumpsuit pulled to her waist and tied it around her belly, revealing her navel which the white top top hugging her body couldn't cover.

The elevator doors closed. Moments later, they opened onto a private floor of the VVIP ward. Everything here was top-tier. Polished marble floors, modern white walls with LED lighting, and security cameras hidden neatly in the corners. The hallway smelled of expensive air fresheners. Every step echoed. They stopped in front of a wide wooden door with a gold handle.One of the bodyguards opened it quietly. Inside, the room looked more like a hotel suite than a hospital ward. There was a king-sized bed at the center, a plasma TV mounted on the wall, a couch, bookshelf, and even a small bar counter.

The only illumination comes from the glowing blue and green monitors stacked beside the bed, their circular wave lines moving in a slow, repeating pattern across the screens. Beep. Beep. Beep. Caleb is lying flat on his back in the center of a metal bed. He looks out of place against the white hospital sheets. A thick, white layer of gauze is wrapped tightly around his head, covering the left side of his forehead where the blood had been seeping. A clear plastic tube is hooked into his mouth, taped securely across his strong jawline, leading to a machine beside the bed that forces air into his lungs with a heavy, rhythmic whoosh-click sound every four seconds.

St. Catherine's Hospital The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beep of the monitors and the soft hum of the ventilation system. Julian Cross lay in the bed, his shoulder bandaged, his face pale against the white sheets. A uniformed officer stood by the door, and another was stationed in the hallway. He was not going anywhere.

“There’s something you need to see. Both of you.” Cael stiffened. “You’re showing her now?” “I have no choice,” Eleanor replied. “She’s marked. The Veil has claimed her.” Lyra felt the symbol on her wrist warm at the words. They followed Eleanor down the stairs. Dust swirled in the narrow light from above. The air smelled like old stone, cedar, and something faintly metallic—like moonlit water. At the bottom, the hidden room opened into a circular chamber lit by candles that flickered the moment Lyra stepped inside.

The hospital room was bathed in the faint light of the evening sun that seeps through the blinds of the large window, casting long, slanted shadows across the walls. The hum of machines fills the air, and the occasional beep of monitors breaks the silence. In the center of the room lies a hospital bed, and in it rests Adrianne, connected to an IV drip. Her face is peaceful, the soft rise and fall of her chest indicating that she is still asleep. Her chestnut hair spills across the pillow in a tangled mass, and her slender fingers clutch the edges of the blanket.