It didn’t take long for Zane to finally reach his flat. His hands trembled as he fumbled with the keys, the eerie feeling still clinging to him. He hurriedly opened the door to the common room, slamming it shut behind him with a sense of relief, as though the thick walls could shield him from whatever was lurking outside.

He leaned against the door, breathing heavily, trying to steady himself. “It must be her,” he whispered to himself, his mind replaying the image of the mysterious lady in pink—the figure that had haunted him since their encounter. The thought of her sent a chill through him, as though she were still somehow lingering, watching him, even now.

The common room was eerily empty, the silence thick and oppressive. Zane’s footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way upstairs, the sound of his shoes the only disturbance in the stillness. It was quieter than when he first arrived, too quiet. A sense of unease crept over him, deepening with each step.

When he reached the second floor, a wave of discomfort hit him. The lights from the flats on either side of his were gone—dimmed, as if the entire building had fallen asleep. That was when the realization hit him: it was already well past midnight. The clock’s ticking in his mind seemed to match the rhythm of his heartbeat, rapid and unsettling. Something felt wrong. Something was off. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t alone.

Zane’s hand trembled as he reached for the door of Flat No. 221 on the B-floor. His eyes widened at the sight before him—objects were scattered across the floor, and the images pinned on the wall were missing. His heart sank, a knot tightening in his stomach. Without thinking, he rushed toward his colleague’s bedroom.

The door was already unlocked. When it swung open, more items were strewn about, but there was no sign of Raine.

“Raine?” he called calmly, trying to keep his voice steady, to stave off the panic rising in his chest. He checked his own bedroom, but she wasn’t there either. Desperate, he moved toward the study, where he finally found her.

There she was, lying on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. A chair lay tipped over beside her.

“What are you doing?” Zane asked, his voice filled with concern as he set his bag down by the wall and moved closer to her. His gaze fell to the rope clenched tightly in her left hand. Looking up, he saw a cracked portion of the plywood ceiling above them.

“What are you— What is this?” he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“It was an experiment,” she replied, her voice eerily calm.

“Are you even alright? What the hell happened to you?” Zane lectured, his concern growing. He knew he couldn’t move her yet—he had no idea what might happen if he did, and he needed to figure out what had led her to this point.

“Can you help me up?” Raine asked, her tone unnervingly nonchalant, as if nothing had happened.

“Tell me if you're alright first,” Zane replied, kneeling down to her level. “You fell, didn't you? A failed attempt?”

“I’m fine. I can get up myself,” she answered, pushing herself up with surprising ease. “And it wasn’t what you’re thinking. I told you, it was an experiment!”

“Uh-huh?” Zane said, unconvinced.

“Well, I don’t care if you believe me or not,” Raine snapped, brushing herself off as she walked toward the door. “All I can say is I was just experimenting with gravity and force.”

Zane watched her leave, still doubtful, but followed her out of the room, his mind racing with questions.

“By experimenting inside our flat, where we have a sweet but terror of a landlady?” Zane asked, incredulity in his voice. “Oh, Raine. Don’t drag me into this mess. I’m certainly not a part of it.”

Raine ignored him, her pace unhurried as she shuffled to the kitchen in her bluish, fluffy slippers and matching blue pyjamas. She opened the cupboard and took out a teabag, dropping it into a mug of hot water that still held warmth, indicating her little experiment hadn’t taken place too long ago—just before she’d planned to have a drink. She casually placed the rope inside the cupboard, shutting the door with a soft thud, her face betraying a hint of frustration.

Zane stood in the doorway, watching her, still unsure of what had just happened.

“Can’t sleep then?” Zane asked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, his arms crossed as he observed her. “Why? Are there students messing with you?”

“I was… bored,” Raine replied, taking a slow sip of her tea as she sank into one of the three wooden chairs at the kitchen table.

“Have it your way,” Zane said with a shrug. “Maybe your mind’s just racing with work. Or maybe it’s that student who upset you because they didn’t prepare.” He leaned back slightly, watching her. “You know what? Why not spend those boring moments of yours cleaning this flat? It could use it.”

Raine shot him a glance but didn’t respond, her eyes distant as she stirred her tea, lost in thought.

“We have school again tomorrow. Aren’t you tired?” Raine asked, taking another slow sip of her tea.

“Before I go to sleep, I just want to tell you something important,” Zane replied, his voice quieter now.

Raine set her teacup down and eyed him carefully. “I see you’ve got something urgent to say, judging by the restlessness of your fingers, which have been fidgeting since I first saw you. The way you've been pacing—hastier than usual—and the way you’re speaking to me now. Ever since you arrived.” She leaned back slightly, her gaze steady. “Care to elaborate?”

“The thing is, before I left the hospital—your cousins’ place—I was greeted by a message written in blood, saying Stay Away,” Zane stated, his voice low but firm.

“Blood? Where did you even see this?” Raine asked, disbelief creeping into her tone.

“I got lost, and ended up passing by a bathroom. I went in, and for just a few moments, those words were there,” he replied, his eyes distant as he relived the moment.

“Are you even sure it’s blood? Maybe you just hallucinated,” Raine suggested, her voice tinged with skepticism.

“You know, Raine,” Zane said, leaning in slightly, “I have this feeling it could be that lady in pink I saw. Or maybe it’s just one of those people who died at the hospital, seeking justice.” He paused, his gaze intense. “I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something more to it.”

“You happen to have that third eye everyone talks about?” Raine asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh, come on. I’m just reporting what I saw,” Zane replied, his tone light as he walked slowly toward his bedroom. “Or maybe I was just hallucinating, like you said. It is already midnight, after all, and I clearly need some proper sleep.”

He paused at the doorway, turning back to look at her. “Night, Raine. Don’t stay up too late thinking about my... hallucinations.”

The next night, it was another shift for Zane at St. Luke’s Hospital, as he prepared for the busy weekdays that stretched all the way through Saturday.

“Patient No. 202 will undergo another round of vital checks today. After that, a CT scan will be scheduled,” Dr. Dizon reported, handing Zane his notes. “The results are in. Mrs. Lasala has high blood pressure at the moment and shows signs of having had a stroke. Fortunately, her daughter brought her to the hospital in time.”

“Nitroglycerin during the visit. Got it, Doc!” Zane replied, already scanning the notes as he prepared for the next steps.

“Patient 203, however, underwent genetic testing, as you suggested, Mr. Nuñez,” Dr. Dizon added, handing his recitation to Sarah. “We found the presence of HLA-DQ2 and HLA-DQ8 genes in his system. A biopsy was also performed on the patient’s small intestine, confirming that he has celiac disease.”

“That would be acetaminophen, continuing IV fluids, and administering loperamide,” Sarah read aloud from the recitations.

“Alright, that'll be all. I'm off to visit my other patients,” Dr. Dizon said, rising from his seat as he prepared to leave.

After a brief trip, they arrived at the room they were assigned to monitor. Before they could open the door, they saw Mrs. Jarme speaking on her phone, her eyes fighting back tears as she guided her mother towards them.

“Good evening, ladies. We're back again,” Sarah greeted.

“Ma'am, could you please?” Zane asked politely, gesturing to her phone, which Mrs. Nuñez immediately recognised. She ended the call. “Thank you. We're sorry, but no videos or images while we work. Hospital policy.”

“It’s alright. I understand,” Mrs. Jarme replied, her voice steady despite the emotion in her eyes.

"Alright, Mrs. Lasala, we'll check you over again," Sarah said softly, adjusting her stethoscope to check the woman's heartbeat. Zane prepared the medications to administer to her.

"Alright," the elderly woman responded weakly.

After a brief check, the results were noted. "Ma'am, we're going to give you some nitroglycerin to help lower your blood pressure. Just take a few deep breaths for us, alright?" Zane asked.

"I... I think I’ll need that oxygen mask again," Mrs. Lasala said, struggling to catch her breath.

Without hesitation, Zane grabbed the oxygen mask from their supplies, quickly setting up the tank and ensuring everything was ready before placing it over her nose and mouth. Meanwhile, Sarah took the syringe and administered the nitroglycerin into Mrs. Lasala's IV drip.

"It should help relax your blood vessels and ease some of the strain on your heart," Zane reassured, gently massaging Mrs. Lasala's hand.

"There we go, Mrs. Lasala," Sarah said as she finished administering the medication. "You’ll start feeling much better in just a moment."

"Everything’s going to be alright, Mamma," Mrs. Jarme comforted, sitting by the side of the bed near her mother's feet.

"Vitals are steady, but we’ll stay vigilant," Sarah noted, her tone calm but focused as she continued to monitor the patient’s condition.

They gathered their things, preparing to move to the next room. Meanwhile, Mrs. Jarme picked up her phone again, resuming her conversation.

"Hello," she spoke softly. "Mamma keeps asking if you’re all coming home, especially since her birthday’s soon. She really wants to see you."

“We want to, but we have work here, and I don’t have enough money to travel just yet,” a man’s voice replied from the phone.

“She’ll be alright. Don’t worry,” a woman’s voice added reassuringly.

The two nurses were about to leave when Sarah’s attention was drawn to a sudden change in the situation. "Her breathing's becoming shallow. Zane, increase her oxygen!"

"On it," Zane responded quickly, his movements calm despite the urgency. He adjusted the oxygen levels. "Just hold on, ma’am. We’re here. Don’t panic, just keep breathing."

"Wait—she's seizing!" Sarah exclaimed, her voice sharp with alarm. "Call for help!"

Zane rushed to the side, assisting where needed while the nurses worked swiftly. Dr. Dizon took the syringe from Sarah, administering the diazepam with precision. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, as the seconds stretched.

Sarah stood by, watching anxiously, her hands steady despite the tension in the air. "It's going to work," she reassured herself quietly, even though her heart raced. The room was filled with hushed urgency, each movement deliberate, as they waited for the medication to take effect.

"Mamma! Please, hold on!" Mrs. Jarme cried, her voice breaking through the tension, her eyes pleading for her mother to survive.

The minutes felt like hours as they worked. Zane's gaze flicked between Sarah and Dr. Dizon, watching them fight to stabilize the elderly woman. The room seemed suspended in time, the weight of the situation pressing down on them all.

“Ma'am, don't worry. We’ll do our best,” Nurse Bautista reassured, offering comfort before turning back to assist the others.

A few tense moments passed. Dr. Dizon exhaled, his relief short-lived as he checked the vitals. His face darkened. “She’s stopped seizing, but…” His voice trailed off as he continued examining the monitor. “She’s slipping into a coma. We must stabilise her. Pulse?”

“It’s faint—nearly undetectable,” Zane replied, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Heart rate’s dropping. Prepare the defib, just in case.”

"Her heart rate’s still dropping,” Sarah reported, her voice tight with urgency. “We can't afford to wait. Starting CPR—compressions, now.”

Nurse Hermosa positioned herself by the monitor, her gaze locked on the fluctuating numbers. “I’ll track vitals. Keep at it, keep at it…”

“Let’s switch for thirty compressions—come on, stay with us!” Dr. Dizon muttered, his movements steady and precise as he coordinated the rhythm.

“Charging defib, just in case,” Sarah called. As the machine hummed to life, everyone stepped back, and the electricity surged into Mrs. Lasala’s chest. “Clear!”

“Still no response…” Ms. Hermosa noted, her voice heavy with concern. Dr. Dizon’s arms tightened as he deepened the compressions. The team shifted, and Zane took his position for the next round.

“Come on, Ma’am,” he urged quietly as he began the compressions.

Sarah reset the defibrillator. “Another round. Ready… Clear!” she commanded.

Silence gripped the room, thick and heavy, as they all stared at the screen, waiting. The faint beeping of the heart monitor had long since ceased, replaced by an eerie stillness.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Dizon's voice broke the silence, barely audible. “...Nothing. Still flatline.”

Zane lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Just beyond the doorway, Mrs. Jarme’s sobs echoed, a painful reminder of the moment he’d tried so hard to forget.

Dr. Dizon exhaled, his voice heavy with quiet resignation. “Alright… Let’s call it. She’s been through enough.” He paused, looking at the others. “Time of death…”

They exchanged glances, the weight of their failure hanging in the air. “Seven thirty-seven,” Ms. Hernandez answered softly, the finality in her words like a closing door.

Mrs. Jarme stepped closer, her face a mixture of grief and gratitude as she wiped away the tears that refused to stop. Her voice cracked with sorrow as she spoke. “Thank you so much,” she said, her eyes lingering on the doctor and nurses who had fought so hard to save her mother.

One by one, the team offered their condolences. “I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” they murmured, their voices thick with emotion.

Zane opened his mouth to say the same, but then a cold sweat broke out across his skin. His hands trembled uncontrollably, the shaky sensation creeping up his arms. His heart raced, and his breath hitched. Sarah, noticing his sudden shift, leaned in closer, her voice gentle but concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I… I am,” Zane replied, forcing a small, thoughtful smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. But inside, his mind was a storm of turmoil, memories he wished would stay buried rising up once more. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

As they were all about to leave, Zane’s vision blurred, the room spinning as the sensation of weightlessness overtook him. Before he could react, darkness swallowed him whole.