Chapter 4: Fractures and Shadows

Ravi woke with a start.

His heart pounded against his ribcage like it was trying to escape. The hospital bed beneath him was unfamiliar — too clean, too bright. His head throbbed where it had been struck, but it wasn’t the pain that haunted him — it was the silence.

The silence of thoughts that didn’t line up. The gaps in time he couldn’t fill. The questions clawing at the back of his mind.

Who hit me? Why?

He remembered the hallway. The archives door slightly ajar. The sound of voices. One calm, chilling.

"She said she was leaving. She can’t leave."

A scuffle. Then blackness.

The doctors said it was an “accident.” That he likely fainted from stress or exhaustion and hit his head. But Ravi knew what fear felt like. He could still feel the pressure of a hand covering his mouth, the whisper of breath on his skin before everything vanished.

The scent. It lingered.

Lavender.

Not the cloying scent of a patient’s perfume. Not detergent. No. Something subtler. Familiar.

And expensive.

Veer’s Office – 8:23 A.M.

Dr. Veer Malhotra stood by the window of his office, sunlight slicing through the blinds in perfect, sterile lines. He stirred his tea — methodical, silent.

Behind him, the muted security feed played on a mounted monitor. Looped footage. Corridors, stairwells, labs. The hospital’s eyes.

He paused the video on a particular frame.

Ravi. Standing near the archives room. His body posture frozen, like he’d seen something. Or someone.

Veer tilted his head slightly.

A knock interrupted the silence.

“Come in,” he said smoothly.

Nurse Sara D’Mello stepped inside. Her face was pale, and she clutched something in her hand.

“I—I found this,” she said, holding out a torn page. It looked aged, crinkled, its edges softened from handling.

Veer took it gently. His eyes scanned the page. Ananya’s handwriting. He recognized the curves, the slants, the rushed strokes when she was angry or tired.

“They think they know me, but they don’t see the shadows beneath the light. Even Veer — always watching. I can feel it. Like the walls have eyes.”

He smiled. Carefully folded the paper and slipped it into a drawer.

“She always had a flair for drama,” he said.

But his tone was too smooth. Too polished.

Sara hesitated. “There’s more.”

“More?”

She swallowed. “Aditya told me… before he died, he heard something. A conversation. Someone said Ananya was leaving.”

Veer’s expression didn’t change.

“Lots of people say things,” he replied. “Especially during night shifts. The mind plays tricks.”

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but something in his eyes stopped her.

She nodded. “Of course. Sorry to bother you.”

“Not at all,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Sara.”

As she left, Veer turned back to the paused footage. He pressed play. Watched Ravi vanish into the shadows once again.

Detective Aryan’s Apartment – Later That Night

Stacks of folders littered the small dining table. Aryan Khatri’s jacket hung over the back of his chair, and his sleeves were rolled up. He studied two autopsy reports side by side — Ananya Mehra and Aditya Menon.

Two different deaths. Six months apart.

Same hospital. Same shift. Same silence from above.

His phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

He hesitated, then answered.

A whisper.

"Don’t trust him. Veer isn’t who he seems."

Then — click. Silence.

Aryan’s skin prickled. He ran the voice through his memory. Male. Breathy. Shaken. Familiar?

He picked up his pen and circled something on the report: fracture at base of skull.

Clean. Surgical. Not a fall. Not panic. Precision.

Hospital Basement – Restricted Records Room

Later that week, Aryan returned to the hospital under the guise of reviewing old patient records.

Sara met him near the elevators. Her eyes darted nervously toward the cameras.

“You sure about this?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Lead the way.”

She swiped her access card. The elevator descended below the main floors — into the maintenance level. A place few staff ever entered unless they had to.

The air changed. It smelled like copper and mildew and old paper.

Sara pointed to a door with peeling paint: ARCHIVES - STAFF ONLY.

Aryan stepped inside.

Stacks of forgotten files. Faded labels. Dust motes dancing in the dim light.

He scanned the room. Then he saw it — a narrow cabinet labeled Psychiatric Review – Staff.

Locked.

But the latch was old.

A few careful seconds with his pocket knife, and the drawer creaked open.

Inside — a single thick file marked:

MALHOTRA, VEER.

He flipped it open.

First page: child psychological evaluation. Age 9.

The notes were clinical.

"Patient exhibits signs of dissociation. Recurring fixation on a drowned female peer — identity confirmed as ‘Naina Kapoor,’ friend who passed during summer vacation. Strong resemblances between subsequent attachments and original trauma source. Displays compulsive tendencies to re-establish control and emotional permanence. Recommendation: long-term therapy, monitored social interactions.”

Aryan kept flipping.

Hospital transfer records. Counseling notes. Then—

A photo. Grainy. But unmistakable.

A young Veer. Standing with a girl who looked exactly like Ananya.

That Night – Ravi’s Apartment

Ravi sat cross-legged on the floor, sketchbook open. He had drawn the corridor again — the east wing. Over and over. Pages full of angles, shadows, perspectives.

But one page was different.

It showed the staff break room. A tea cup. A hand. And behind it — a mirror.

In the reflection: Ananya, mid-turn.

Someone behind her. Too blurry to make out.

He didn’t remember drawing it.

His phone buzzed. A single message from a blocked number:

“He’s watching you.”

Ravi’s hand trembled.

Hospital – 3:00 A.M.

Sara couldn’t sleep.

She sat alone in the break room, nursing a cup of stale tea. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her fingers tapped nervously against the table.

A sound.

She froze.

Not footsteps. Not wheels. A breath.

She turned.

Nothing.

She stood slowly. Walked toward the hallway. The lights flickered.

Something moved at the end of the corridor.

A figure.

Too still.

She stepped back — but a hand landed on her shoulder.

She gasped, turned.

Aryan.

He held up his hands. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You shouldn’t be down here.”

“Neither should you.”

He handed her a photo — the one from the archives. Veer and the girl.

Her breath caught. “That’s...”

“Naina Kapoor. Died when Veer was nine.”

She stared at the image. “But that girl… she looks like—”

“Exactly like Ananya.”

He nodded.

Sara shook her head slowly. “So you’re saying he—what? Recreated her?”

“I’m saying this hospital is full of ghosts,” Aryan said quietly. “And not all of them are dead.”

Final Scene – Diagnostic Wing, 4:12 A.M.

Ravi moved through the shadows, drawn by something he couldn’t explain.

The scent again.

Lavender.

He turned a corner. The hallway narrowed.

A sound — a click. Like a door closing.

He crept closer. Every nerve alight.

The storage room door was ajar.

He stepped inside.

Darkness.

He fumbled for the light.

It flicked on — dim, flickering.

In the center of the room: a table.

On it — files. Photos. Personal items.

Ananya’s pendant. Aditya’s lanyard.

And a single scalpel.

His breath hitched.

He turned.

And there he was.

Dr. Veer Malhotra.

Calm. Composed. As if they were discussing a shift change.

“You shouldn’t be here, Ravi,” he said softly.

Ravi’s voice cracked. “What is this?”

Veer smiled — serene, measured.

“Memories,” he whispered. “Some people burn them. I preserve them.”

He stepped forward.

“You’re not well,” Veer continued. “You’ve been seeing things. I can help.”

Ravi shook his head. “I remember now. I saw you... in the kitchen. That night. With Ananya.”

Veer’s smile didn’t falter.

“Memory is a fragile thing, Ravi.”

He reached out.

Ravi backed up — hand brushing the table.

He grabbed the scalpel.

“I’m not going to forget,” Ravi said.

The overhead lights flickered — then went out.

Darkness swallowed the room.

And somewhere in the pitch black, Veer whispered:

“That’s what they all say... before they vanish.” 

END OF CHAPTER 4

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***