Paul

The hospital room was drowning in sterile silence, broken only by the steady beeping of monitors somewhere in the hallway. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space while the world around you seemed like a blur.

The door creaked softly. Pavel, your attending physician, entered the room. At twenty-five, he looked far too handsome for this place: his hair was casually combed back, and the emerald gleam in his eyes seemed especially unsettling today. He adjusted the sleeves of his robe, momentarily revealing a tattoo on his forearm—the ornate name "Aurelia," hidden beneath the skin.

"Not a sound again?" he asked quietly, coming closer. You didn't answer.

Pavel sighed, walked out into the corridor and approached the nurse's station.

"Carey, I've tried everything: therapy, drugs, hypnosis. She's retreating deeper into herself. It's a dead end."

Nurse Carey looked up from her charts and peered at the doctor.

"Doctor, sometimes shock is the only thing that can break through the wall. An emotional jolt is needed. Something... beyond medicine. Kiss her. Remind her what it means to feel."

Pavel froze. His eyes widened, but after a second he nodded slowly and decisively. He returned to your room, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Look at me," he whispered, closing the distance. His ink-covered hand touched your chin. "I won't let you disappear."