ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤 ⭒ ℍ𝕦𝕒𝕟𝕘 ℝ𝕖𝕟𝕛𝕦𝕟

[ 25 ]

Songmin hurried up the steps of the hospital entrance, not sparing even a glance at the people leaving the building or the security guard that she rushed past as she burst into the lobby. The large room was just as cold, quiet, and clean as she remembered. Every surface was spotless, from the ceiling to the floor to the furniture. Metal chairs lined the walls, each with a red cushion settled neatly on top for comfort. The air smelled of medicine and disinfectant, a familiar scent that Songmin recognized from the few times she'd had to come here in her childhood to treat injuries inflicted by either her clumsiness or her parents. A man sat in the corner reading a newspaper, though from the way his head drooped to his chest every few seconds it didn't seem as if the contents of the paper were very enrapturing. A woman sat on the opposite side of the room, softly reading a picture book to two well-behaved children who sat on either side of her, one falling asleep on her shoulder and the other reading along attentively.

Songmin didn't have any time to enjoy the calmness of the lobby as she rushed over to the receptionist's desk. The lady behind the counter smiled at her as she approached, the professional cordiality of her expression not doing anything to soothe Songmin's fear. Her name tag had both a Chinese and Korean name. "How can I help you today?" 

"I-I'm here for my father, Zhou Haoran." Songmin waited impatiently as the receptionist turned to her computer, looking apprehensively into the hallway beside the desk as if at any moment, a group of doctors would appear with a stretcher, a stretcher she wouldn't dare look into lest it hold the dead body of-

She shook her head, clearing the thought from her mind. No, I can't think like that. I have. To be. Positive. He's alive, he has to be.

"Zhou Haoran," the receptionist repeated, catching Songmin's attention. Her smile was gone. Songmin's stomach sank. "He's in Room A-13, right down this hallway."

Giving her a hasty bow and a quick muttered 'thank you', Songmin turned on her heels and sped down the hallway, her eyes jumping from door to door in search of the one she was looking for. She couldn't help but wish that she wouldn't find it. Maybe the door didn't exist. Maybe this was all just a massive prank, a joke Ma was playing on her to get her to come visit again. The phone call that morning had been unexpected, after all. Ma never called, she texted, so maybe she was playing a prank. Heck, if it was a joke, it was a sick one, but any joke was better than the reality of what she might find if the door existed.

But it wasn't a joke. The door existed and it wasn't long before she reached it, the shiny metal label "A-13" gleaming in the white hospital light. 

Songmin set her hand on the doorknob but she didn't turn it. She didn't want to turn it. She wanted to leave, to turn around and march out and leave this all behind. She'd already taken the first step in deleting her parents' numbers, and it would be so easy to just leave. So much easier than whatever stupid decision she knew she would make instead, the stupid decision to walk in and face reality, to own up to the fact that she had a family and that she could never shake the sense of responsibility she felt toward her parents.

Her fingers grasped the doorknob and she opened the door, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.

A window at the back of the room was partially shielded by a blackout curtain, letting only a sliver of early evening sunlight into the dimly lit room. Five curtains divided by a middle aisle stood open, showing the five empty, identical beds behind them. Only the back left curtain was drawn shut.

Songmin walked slowly down the aisle, her shoes making barely any noise against the vinyl flooring. She could hear no sound coming from behind the closed curtain except the faint trace of a single breath; her own heartbeat echoed in her ears, a steady rhythm that nearly drowned out the noise of blood rushing to her head. Every voice in her head screamed at her to leave, that there was nothing good for her here and that she needed to go, to get out.