Chapter 16 - The Hospital That Never Existed
The unfinished sentence remained before Richard's eyes.
He read it again.
And again.
Each time hoping more words would appear.
Nothing changed.
The silver ledger ended in silence.
Richard carefully closed the metallic cover and looked toward Edward.
"You said I was unconscious for twelve days."
Edward nodded.
"Where?"
"In Saint Alden Medical Center."
Richard frowned immediately.
"There is no hospital by that name."
"There isn't anymore."
Daniel searched through one of the nearby computer terminals.
"No hospital with that name exists in the national registry."
Edward wasn't surprised.
"It was erased."
Richard slowly walked across the operations center.
"So was my daughter."
"So was Jonathan."
"And apparently twelve days of my own life."
Edward followed several steps behind.
"Those twelve days changed everything."
Richard stopped.
"I remember the accident."
"You remember part of it."
"I remember the funeral."
Edward lowered his eyes.
"Do you?"
The question echoed painfully.
Richard suddenly realized something strange.
He remembered rain.
He remembered black clothing.
He remembered flowers.
But...
He could not remember seeing Emily's face one last time.
Nor could he remember closing a coffin.
Only fragments remained.
Broken images.
Incomplete conversations.
Like pieces of a dream.
Daniel watched Richard's expression change.
"You're remembering something."
Richard pressed a hand against his forehead.
"I remember..."
He struggled.
"...someone telling me not to look."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
His breathing became uneven.
"I wanted to see my daughter."
"But someone kept saying..."
His voice grew faint.
"...the injuries were too severe."
Edward quietly finished the sentence.
"'Remember her smiling.'"
Richard's head snapped upward.
"How do you know those exact words?"
Edward didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he reached into one of the storage cabinets.
Inside lay dozens of old VHS tapes.
Each labeled with dates.
One tape carried a handwritten note.
Hospital Room 714
Richard stared at it.
"I was in Room 714."
Edward nodded.
"I know."
"You visited me every morning."
Richard frowned.
"I don't remember that."
Edward looked away.
"That is precisely the problem."
Daniel inserted the tape into an old player.
Static filled the screen.
Then the picture slowly cleared.
A hospital room appeared.
Richard lay unconscious in bed.
The date matched exactly twenty-eight years earlier.
The door opened.
Someone entered.
Not a doctor.
Not a nurse.
A man in a dark suit carrying a thick folder.
The camera angle never showed his face.
He stood beside Richard's bed for nearly ten minutes.
Then...
He removed several documents from the folder.
Including photographs.
Family records.
Medical files.
He calmly fed them one by one into a portable shredder.
Before leaving, he leaned close to Richard and whispered something impossible to hear.
The recording ended.
Daniel stared silently.
Richard whispered,
"They were destroying my life..."
Edward corrected him.
May you like
"No."
"They were replacing it."
