Into The Silence
The Suspicion
[Setting: Boston Memorial Hospital, night shift]
The hum of machines filled the surgical ward. For Susan Wheeler, the hospital was supposed to be a place of healing. But tonight, she couldn’t shake the chill in her bones.
Susan (To Herself)
Three patients. All young. All healthy. All in coma after simple surgeries. That’s not coincidence.
She flips through charts in the dim light of the resident lounge. A hand suddenly closes the file shut.
Max
You’ll drive yourself crazy, you know that?
Susan Wheeler
*Smiling despite herself*
Or maybe I’ll save someone’s life.
He leans closer, his breath warm, teasing but protective.
Max
Or maybe you’ll ruin your career before it even begins. Come on… you’ve been at this all day.
Susan Wheeler
*pulling away, mock serious*
Don’t distract me.
But when he brushes a stray hair from her cheek, she doesn’t stop him. For a heartbeat, the mystery fades, leaving only the two of them in that quiet room.
Still, when Susan looked back at the charts, her pulse raced.. not from Mark’s touch, but from the subtle pattern she was starting to see: all three patients had their surgeries in the same operating room...
A detail that seemed minor at first, but nagged at her curiosity.
The Pattern
Susan was exhausted by the time morning rounds ended.
The hospital buzzed with life... stretchers rattling down corridors, nurses calling for meds, ventilators humming in the ICU
But her mind wasn’t on her patients. It was on the three who never woke up.
She slipped into the records room when no one was looking, clutching a cup of coffee she hadn’t had time to drink.
The smell of paper and ink was oddly comforting, a brief refuge from the noise. She pulled out the charts one by one.
Three young patients.
Three routine surgeries.
Three comas.
And then.. something else.
Her finger froze on the page. A detail she’d overlooked before jumped out. All three procedures were done in the same place...
The infamous Operating Room 8.
The realization hit her like a punch. It wasn’t coincidence.
The door creaked. Susan slammed the files shut just as Dr. Bellows, the chief resident, stepped in.
Dr. Bellows (the chief resident)
Wheeler? What are you doing here?
Susan Wheeler
Just reviewing post-op notes. *forcing a smile*
Bellows narrowed his eyes.
Dr. Bellows (the chief resident)
Don’t waste your time chasing coincidences. Focus on your rotation.
He left before she could respond.
Her pulse raced. OR 8 wasn’t just a number.. It was a warning.
At lunch, she tried to bring it up with her friend Jenny, a surgical intern.
Jenny (her friend, a surgical intern)
Three coma cases?
Jenny (her friend, a surgical intern)
*Jenny frowned, pushing her salad aside*
Jenny (her friend, a surgical intern)
That’s… weird. But you’re on thin ice already, Susan.
Jenny (her friend, a surgical intern)
If you keep digging, the attendings will notice.
Susan Wheeler
I don’t care. *Her jaw tightened*
Susan Wheeler
Something’s wrong.
Jenny (her friend, a surgical intern)
*Jenny hesitated*
Jenny (her friend, a surgical intern)
Talk to Mark. He’s close to the anesthesiology team. Maybe he knows.
That night, Susan caught Mark outside the OR lounge.
Susan Wheeler
Mark, you know about the coma cases, right?
Max
*He glanced around before answering*
Max
Everyone does. They’re calling it anesthesia complications.
Susan Wheeler
But the surgeries were simple! And all in OR 8.
Max
*Mark stiffened* Drop it, Susan.
Max
You don’t want to get involved.
She searched his face. He looked worried.. not for himself, but for her.
Before she could press further, a nurse rushed past.
Nurse
Code Blue in recovery!!!
The moment was gone, and Mark disappeared into the crowd.
Susan stayed behind, unsettled.
Later that night, Susan checked the vitals of a new patient, Mr. Richards, a healthy man in his 30s, in for a routine knee surgery. His wife clutched Susan’s hand.
Mrs. Richard
Please… he’s strong. This is nothing serious, right?
Susan smiled faintly, but inside, dread twisted in her stomach.
Tomorrow, Richards would be wheeled into surgery.
And if she was right… he might never wake up again...
The Fourth Case
Morning came too quickly. Susan hadn’t slept much, her mind replaying the image of Mr. Richards’ worried wife.
Now, as she stood outside Operating Room 8, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread.
Through the glass, the surgery looked normal. The surgeons joked lightly, the monitors beeped in steady rhythm, and Richards lay peacefully under anesthesia.
On the surface, nothing seemed unusual. But Susan’s eyes narrowed on the details; the same anesthesiologist, Dr. Lyons, calm and precise, almost too calm.
His movements were flawless, but his expression unreadable, detached. Susan wrote his name down in her notebook.
Mark’s voice pulled her back. He stood beside her with his arms crossed, trying to sound casual.
Susan didn’t look away from the window.
Susan Wheeler
If Richards doesn’t wake up, that’s four.
Max
*Mark sighed* You’re pushing too far, Susan. The attendings are already talking.
Susan Wheeler
Then let them talk.. *she replied quietly*
Susan Wheeler
Someone has to notice what’s happening.
For the first time, Mark didn’t argue right away. His gaze softened, but before he could respond, the red light above the OR door flicked on.. surgery in progress.
Hours later, Susan hurried into the recovery ward. The sharp alarms hit her before she even saw the room.
Nurses crowded around Richards, calling out vitals, adjusting machines. His chest rose only with the help of the ventilator.
Her whole body went cold. She remembered his wife’s voice:
Mrs. Richard
He’s strong. This isn’t serious, right?
She wanted to believe those words.. but now Richards lay silent, another victim.
One Of The Staff
Complication *shaking his head.*
No. Not a complication. This was the fourth. Her hands trembled, but she steadied her voice inside her mind: This is a pattern.
She looked up and spotted Mark at the far end of the hall. He wasn’t moving, just watching her, his face unreadable.
And then her gaze drifted back to Dr. Lyons, calmly filling out his notes as if nothing unusual had happened. Too calm. Almost rehearsed.
Susan’s pulse raced. Four patients. Four simple surgeries. Four lives stolen in the same operating room.
And if she was right, Richards wouldn’t be the last.
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