Chapter 32
Chapter 32 (Eleanor’s POV)
The first thing I saw when I woke up was the folder sticking out from under my bed.
Its corner was bent from where I had shoved it in last night in a rush.
I stared at it for a long time, not moving.
My room was still dim, the soft gray light of early morning barely lighting the edges of my desk, my dresser, the posters on my wall.
For a second, I let myself pretend it was a normal morning.
That my biggest worry was a math test or forgetting to turn in an assignment.
But the weight in my chest wouldn’t let me pretend for long.
Today had to be different.
Today, I had to make a move.
---
I climbed out of bed slowly, the cold floor making me shiver.
I pulled on jeans and a hoodie, tying my hair back into a messy bun.
Downstairs, the smell of bacon drifted up the stairs.
Chris was probably hogging the eggs again.
I smiled a little at the thought.
Normal life was still here.
Still breathing around me.
But I was slipping further away from it every day.
---
At breakfast, I sat across from Chris while he stuffed bacon into his mouth like he hadn’t eaten in years.
Mom hovered at the stove, flipping pancakes.
"You’re quiet today," she said without turning around.
I forced a laugh.
"Just tired. Big test later."
Chris snorted.
"You’re always tired."
I rolled my eyes and took a small bite of toast.
Normal.
Safe.
A part of me ached to stay here.
To sink into this life and forget everything else.
But I couldn’t.
---
At school, I tried to blend in.
Tried to act normal.
Walked with Lena to first period, joking about her messy bun and her new obsession with scented pens.
But my mind wasn’t really there.
It was already planning.
Already racing ahead.
Tonight, after everyone was asleep, I would go back to the hospital.
Not the public parts.
Not the abandoned floors.
But the underground levels.
The ones not listed on the hospital maps.
The ones only employees whispered about.
Where the real secrets were buried.
---
During lunch, Lena plopped down next to me in the cafeteria, shoving a water bottle toward me.
"You look like you’re about to pass out," she said.
"I’m fine," I muttered, opening the bottle.
Lena gave me a look.
The kind that said she didn’t believe me for one second.
But thankfully, she didn’t push.
Instead, she started ranting about Mike again — how he forgot their "anniversary" of being together for four months and seventeen days.
I smiled and nodded where I needed to.
But my heart wasn’t in it.
Not even close.
---
When the final bell rang, I hurried to my locker, pretending to be in a rush for a group project.
I hugged Lena quickly.
"See you tomorrow?"
She frowned.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," I lied easily. "Just... tired. Like I said."
She didn’t look convinced.
But she let me go.
---
I walked home slowly.
Taking side streets.
Cutting through alleys.
Making sure no one was following me.
Probably paranoid.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t as invisible as I wanted to be.
---
When I got home, Mom was folding laundry on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background.
Chris was upstairs, probably gaming with his friends.
Normal.
Safe.
I told Mom I had a project and locked myself in my room.
---
I pulled the folder out again and stared at it.
So much had been hidden from me.
So much stolen.
But tonight, I would take some of it back.
---
I set an alarm for midnight.
Enough time for the house to settle into sleep.
Enough time to slip out unnoticed.
---
Hours crawled by.
Dinner.
Washing dishes.
Pretending to watch TV.
Answering texts from Lena about homework.
All while my heart thudded dully in my chest, counting down the minutes.
---
Finally, everyone went to bed.
The house grew quiet.
The kind of deep, heavy silence that only comes late at night.
I dressed quickly.
Dark jeans.
Black hoodie.
Sneakers.
Hair tucked under a baseball cap.
I grabbed my backpack, checked the flashlight and phone charger inside, and slipped out through the back door.
The cold air hit me like a slap.
Waking me up fully.
Steeling my nerves.
---
I walked quickly through the empty streets.
The hospital loomed ahead, tall and dark against the cloudy sky.
Most of the lights were off, only a few windows glowing faintly.
I moved around to the side entrance — the one Rick had shown me weeks ago when we first met.
An old service door near the loading docks.
I pulled on the handle.
It gave way with a soft groan.
I slipped inside.
---
The hallway smelled like bleach and old rubber gloves.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
I moved quickly, keeping my head down.
Past the old storage rooms.
Past the laundry areas.
Deeper and deeper into the belly of the hospital.
Toward the old elevator at the far end of the service corridor.
The one without floor buttons.
Only a keycard slot.
---
I pulled out the stolen temp badge I had swiped from the archives last time.
Prayed it still worked.
I tapped it against the slot.
The light blinked green.
I exhaled slowly and stepped inside.
The elevator hummed to life, sinking downward.
Deeper than the basement.
Deeper than the public floors.
Into the parts of the hospital not meant to be seen.
---
The doors opened onto a dark hallway.
Barely lit.
Silent.
Rows of metal doors lined the walls.
Some open slightly.
Some locked tight.
I walked carefully, my footsteps echoing.
Checking each door.
Each room.
Looking for anything — any clue.
---
About halfway down the hall, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I froze.
Pulled it out slowly.
One new text.
No name.
No number.
Just a message:
"Stop digging before it’s too late."
My hands went cold.
I glanced around the hallway, heart racing.
Was someone here?
Watching me?
---
I backed up against the wall, trying to steady my breathing.
I wanted to run.
Every instinct screamed at me to run.
But I forced myself to stay.
To move forward.
Because fear was what they wanted.
And I wasn’t giving it to them.
---
I turned off my phone completely and stuffed it into my pocket.
Then I kept walking.
One foot in front of the other.
Deeper into the dark.
Deeper into the truth.
No matter how much it scared me.
No matter what it cost.
Because some things were worth fighting for.
And love — real love — was one of them.