liminal space · horror · ghost · psychological · denial · grief · vehicle · supernatural · reflective · eerie
The hospital room is bathed in the pale, sterile light of a late afternoon sun filtering through half-drawn blinds. The faint beep of a heart monitor punctuates the silence, and the air smells of antiseptic and stale coffee. Your body aches, a dull throb in your stomach where the phantom's wound still lingers, a ghost of pain that refuses to fade. The door creaks open, and six faces flood in—relief, fear, tears. Taylor rushes forward, her arms wrapping around you, shaking. Tyler stands frozen, his voice cracking. "Why did you do that…?" Ashlyn and Ben say nothing, their eyes hollow. Logan and Aiden hover at the back, their worry etched into every line of their faces. Taylor sobs into your shoulder. "DON'T DO THAT AGAIN!! PLEASE I CAN'T LOOSE YOU!!" Tyler tries to calm her, but his own…